Resplendent Little Things
by SnowSystem
Summary: What could family possibly mean, or even be worth when the malignancy of its affection permeates the unwitting and the unwilling? Slow Growth. Khan/Uhura. Uhura/Spock friendly.
1. Chapter 1: Ghosts

A/N: Omg, I can't believe it. I'm not even sure how many years it's been since I've uploaded anything to FFN. It's been so long that I forgot how to do it and had to re-learn. As it is, this is my tentative though likely brief return to fictdom so reviews are appreciated. This happens to be my first Trek fic so. Yeah.

Standard disclaimer of 'work of fiction and claim of no ownership to any of the named and licensed characters appearing in this piece'. In other words, please don't sue me, it's not worth it.

* * *

Chapter 1: Ghosts

Over? It was never _over_. They thought they had won—all of them. With due respect, considering the situation, it would be a rather simple conclusion to draw. It was there that the mistake was made. But it was fine. Lulled they all were; pacified by their unflagging sense of victory. It was something that he had not, even in the time of his awakening, understood by the gimping creatures that insisted on calling themselves human. A folly throughout the ages proven time and again…when one sought true domination over the vanquished, it was only correct and proper to subjugate and systematically dismantle the conquered until they are crushed into dust and memory. When such measures were not seen through to nearly suffocating detail, one risked a resurgence more powerful than anything that could be suspected from ghosts. Which was what he was now. A _ghost_. Put down properly but not properly exercised. No. He was left to slink through the darkened corridors of minds he knew he still haunted. A shadowy figure lurking just beyond the reach of worth but still a peddler of attention…no matter how foolish or fanciful. This state was also where he was the most powerful. He reveled in the cornucopia of possibilities. But one thing at a time. First he had to open his eyes.

The sound within the metal and glass coffin was not unlike a deep meditative breath passing over skin chilled to the point of crystalized immortality. The protective hatch slid back with a neat hiss as the unpleasant but functional air passed into lungs and out again as nature dictated. Eyelids would crack and open in a near languid fashion, reading only darkness above. It wasn't a simple darkness to be batted away with a lazy audible command…or even the activation of a P.A.D.D.'s indicator lights. This darkness was palpable and smothering like a hot and damp woolen blanket on a warm humid night. It was _perfect_. Long legs would swing over the side of the veritable time capsule and plant feet solidly on cold clean metal. Sterile metal. Despite the utter absence of light, there was a sense of _perception_, a recognition of actualization that kept the confusion of the unknown at bay. Suddenly that hot and damp woolen blanket had become a cloak of cool silk—luxurious and satisfying. Full weight had now been shifted to those feet standing upon that metal floor, carrying a lithe form through the blackness of unfamiliarity. Slender digits reached out, palpating the monochromatic reality, soft finger pads sending important messages to the superior brain that commanded their movements. Hands would glint and glide off the tell-tale outlines of other resident cryo-tubes. One, two, eight…more. It was only an assumption that they were all together. They were _always_ together, even when they were apart. Or at least that was the sentiment so voraciously clung to.

Ah, a panel.

Pressing an ear to the cleave in the portal that was the difference between freedom and _storage_, the muffled sounds of nothing filtered through. Moments passed revealing additional nothing, and more nothing thereafter. Silence. Silence within, and beyond. This was ideal, but ultimately there was no way to be sure that absence begot this silence. Or more, the lack of vigilance. Life, no matter how simple or complex, was about choices, and each choice was a carefully calculated set of odds and computations that ultimately tipped in or out of one's favor. Humans and other select humanoids often called this logic-based phenomenon 'risk', or more whimsically, a gamble. Now was the time to enter into such a weighty scenario. The risks were high, but the return would—ideally—be more than worth it. The panel illuminated. The soft shade of blue against the unrelenting dark was a welcome addition to the decidedly oppressive environment. Just a single touch more and a quaint dose of haptic feedback would be the last prerequisite to satisfy before the portal slowly, silently yield. Despite the dimness of the new outside, the flood of lowered light was more than enough for piercing blue eyes to adjust favorably. Those dimmed lights also provided another service…the promise of a clandestine egress.

* * *

A/N: Short. Yes. I'm trying to warm up to something longer later. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2: Nothing Of Note

A/N: Omg. Ok, so I labored on this for a little bit. There were portions of it that I simply wasn't satisfied with-which might have had something to do with the fact that I started this chapter at 2 something yesterday morning. I hope it comes together well. Constructive criticism encouraged. I do not own Star Trek licenses.

* * *

Chapter 2: Nothing of Note

A contented sigh would prick the quiet of the softly illuminated room. Cool cotton sheets in an exquisitely high thread count draped her relaxed form, stimulating her warm skin as the smooth folds soothed it. Synthetics had been the ideal material for most fabric products for what was centuries now; their longevity was substantial, they were easy to fabricate and care for and their ability to be repurposed was without question. Still, that didn't mean she had to like or live with them. Well ahead of the date the Enterprise was due to disembark on their extended deep space mission, Nyota Uhura had made it her business to see that she had organic cotton sheets enough to last five years. She would not be suffering plastic on her skin night after night if she didn't have to.

And despite Spock's unabashed support for synthetic fiber bedding, she didn't hear him complaining when he shared those homespun threads with her. Not that Spock could be accused of complaining in _any_ capacity—and if he did it was so deeply buried amid telling silence and arching brows, even she did not notice.

He was awake still. He was always awake, or at least he was never observed to fall asleep before she did. She knew he meditated regularly, but could that have been the only time he settled his impressive whirring mind? When he was as relaxed as she was right now, did he think of anything? And if so, what? She certainly knew what _she_ was thinking…she was thinking about what he might have been thinking about, or not thinking about. The idle train of thought brought a wisp of a smile to her face. He would probably muse, had he been privy to her thoughts at that moment, that her line of thinking-while not irrational-was lacking in necessity. And he might have been right—provided had he been privy to those thoughts. And he wasn't. But that was the fun of it, thinking idle thoughts and wondering at unnecessary things. Nyota snuggled more closely into Spock's side as she let a finger trace lightly over his chest, swirling a bit over his sternum before finally resting there. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing of note."

It was a simple reply, whispered back in the dark in the same way it had been whispered to him. She moved one leg atop of his and rubbed her toes against the top of his foot, enjoying the smooth coolness of the skin there. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious."

Silence returned, but with Spock's hand lightly bending on the curve of Nyota's shoulder, rubbing affectionately. She sighed again. Her eyelids were heavy. Soon she'd depart for the comforts of slumber, not to know if Spock would join her. He would sleep of course…it was the logical thing to do given that tomorrow could bring anything. 'Nothing of note' he had told her. Rather that, it was nothing that was pertinent to her at that particular hour. She was tired and fell asleep quickly. When the slowed rhythm of Nyota's breathing became apparent, Spock would cant his head and place a chaste kiss on his lover's brow. He did not wish to inform her at the time that his thoughts had turned to his father and mother's relationship. As he recalled, the basis of their courtship had been very utilitarian in nature. Spock certainly couldn't deny the parallels between his and Nyota's involvement and that of his parents, and it was certainly his desire for their relationship to maintain those parallels. In his mind the five year mission would assist in precipitating such an outcome. That so, it seemed only logical that the proposition of marriage be posted for Nyota's consideration. They had been a pair for some time now and to that effect, the concept did not seem rushed. It was at this point merely a matter of timing. Drawing these conclusions and allowing himself his own half smile, Spock would finally drift to sleep.

* * *

There was a certain level of excitement that galloped through James Kirk's veins upon hearing of a previously uncharted M class planet. Of course they knew there were planets in the host star system and it was only _postulated_ that there might have been a planet existing in the resident star's habitable zone. Now that his vessel was specifically traveling to said star system, the theory now stood to be fact. The update to his P.A.D.D. had come shortly after pulling himself from bed in preparation for the quality hours of his shift. The turbo lift hummed with a pleasant familiarity as the doors slid open revealing a bright and blinking bridge. "Keptain on ze bridge!" Chekov announced as James stepped further into the head of his beloved ship. "Good morning everyone!" The golden blonde would pip cheerfully. "As I'm sure everyone is aware," he began as he took a seat in the glossy black chair heralding his command, "we are in route to the Alpha Onias star system. It is to our knowledge that the second planet from the Alpha Onias star is in fact an M class planet. We are due to arrive there momentarily and in such will enter a stable orbit. Upon arrival we will be scanning the surface for signs of life and other interesting things Starfleet would love to learn about and maybe," James ventured, glancing over his shoulder to Spock's station and the Vulcan himself, "collect ourselves a few safe samples."

In short order, Hikaru Sulu was employing long-range sensor arrays in hopes of finding signs of intelligent life. So far there was none to speak of—which could have been good or bad considering James Kirk's proclivity of turning seemingly benign situations into tremulous ones just by being present. "As near as I can tell Captain, the planet is uninhabited," the young Japanese man dutifully informed as the Enterprise entered orbit. "Fantastic, perhaps we can go down and get some fresh air," Kirk grinned as he opened a small channel down to med-bay and a particularly endearing storm cloud known as Leonard McCoy. "Mornin' Bones, we've just arrived at Alpha Onias II and are planning on making a house call. I'd like you to join me if you don't mind."

"Yeah," the gravelly voice would respond back through the chair's speaker. "Hafta keep you from blowin' up like a toad for steppin' on a patch of Irellian plate grass."

"Outstanding Bones, I know you'll have my back with plenty of hypos on hand. Meet in transporter room three in twenty minutes."

"I'll be there with jingle bells on." The man sounded less than enthused.

"Mister Spock," Jim called out as he stood from his chair and made his way to the turbo lift. "You too. Bring a tricorder and your sense of adventure; also, get a couple of redshirts together as well. Might as well make a party of it!" With a flurry of dancing brows and that patented Kirk grin, the Enterprise captain would disappear behind the turbo lift doors, leaving Spock to glance back at Uhura. "I am not entirely sure the Captain does not fully intend to initiate an impromptu celebration at some point on the surface of Alpha Onias II," the Vulcan mused aloud drawing an amused smile from the brown-skinned woman. "Well, provided there isn't any alcohol, I think he should be fine."

"One could only hope."

* * *

He felt like a vampire. The light of the day seemed like an enemy to him, something to run from, to evade. Of course, what choice did he have? Be found out and returned to stasis? That was always a distinct possibility, but it was doubtful that his self-awakening would be nearly as easy if he was forced to do it again. If nothing else, the inferior ones were fairly resourceful. As he sat in his pilfered quarters, he watched the news feed flash across the monitor, what he read there amusing to him. A rash of thefts had been plaguing the area. Some plundered venues were large and worth note, while other burglarized places seemed barely worth mentioning. A shinobi of old he had been, or so he liked to compare himself as he was indeed responsible for making those headlines. Pat, pat, pat, a thief in the night, and sometimes in the plain day, such as _that_ particular day. Looking over in the corner, there was a growing stack of ill-gotten gains just waiting for him to assemble them into the object best suited for his personal endeavor. Oh how Starfleet had erred in awaking him, which barely said anything for his conscription and subsequent exploitation. There was nothing more offensive than the fact that they simply not finish the job of ending him. It mattered not. It was their fault and before his lifetime was over, he would be sure to make 'them' pay again and again until Khan Noonien Singh saw fit to discontinue their punishment. A light smile adorned his face. They really were making it much too easy for him. More than once had he wondered if they even realized he was _missing_. He wagered they hadn't even bothered to look. And that was all fine and well. All he needed to do was continue keeping a low profile and no one would be the wiser when he finally set in motion plans to vanquish his enemies once and for all. A goal to be accomplished as he pulled off his best vanishing act yet.

* * *

A/N: It was obviously longer than the first one. Still trying to get a feel for the pace. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3: Snowfall of Feathers

A/N: It was suggested that I expand my summery a bit, and so I have. Hopefully it's more revealing summery than it had been before. Per usual, I claim no ownership of the Star Trek franchise or title characters. Also, I would have had this up last night but the site was freaking out a little bit. But it's alright now so on with the show.

* * *

Chapter 3: Snowfall of Feathers

The world was an unbelievably vibrant shade of blue, and from space it would remind of the Sol System's Neptune. On the surface however, it was easy to see what gave Alpha Onias II that lovely blue tint. It was the atmosphere. Ions were reacting to the oxygen in the air put off by the copious amounts of equally blue tinged vegetation. It was terribly interesting, at least it was to Jim as he brushed past a large marble blue leaf that would fold shut upon contact. "Wait just a minute," a twangy voice would order, halting the young captain in his forage through the undergrowth. "What is it Bones?"

"Let me see your arm."

With a puzzled expression, James stepped toward the ever-suspicious McCoy, offering his arm as requested. "Not the whole thing, just where that leaf grazed you." This statement quickly sent the younger man's eyes rolling. "Oh my God Bones, it's a _leaf_."

"And?" Came the question accompanied by a single eye that nearly bulged from the doctor's socket. "There could be enzymes seeping down to your skin and entering your bloodstream through osmosis. Before you know it, you'll be a froth-mouthed and convulsing mess covered in green spots and purple boils. Stand still." With a fluid deftness the CMO had been honing ever since James Kirk had become one of his most frequent patients, a blinking detachable tricorder scanner would hover over Kirk's bicep where the potentially lethal plant made contact. "Christ Bones, why does it always have to be doom and gloom with you?"

"Because I'm always the one left patching you up," the man responded not even looking up. He was far too absorbed in his friend's vitals. "And I appreciate it," Jim replied as he purposefully turned his arm from Bones' examination, "but for right now Bones, relax a bit and enjoy the view! This place is amazing," the younger man grinned as he gazed up to the ocean of sky above them. Of course McCoy was about to interject with a decidedly cantankerous comment but Jim was already moving out of earshot…a thing that had the doctor muttering after him. Before long, Jim would come upon Spock who was standing beside a stream taking down furious field notes. In addition to the redshirts, the Vulcan had collected his own team of scientists who were presently fanned out along the bank. "Find anything?"

"An indigenous species of freshwater cephalopod, or at least what closely resembles a cephalopod." Here Spock gestured toward the blue flowing water. Sure enough James would see a number of creatures that looked a great deal like cuttlefish. "Did you and your team find anything else besides the little squids?" Jim hazarded with bright eyes turning towards his First Officer. "Yes. There are so far 243 observed types of microorganisms in this stream the cephalopods are actively feeding upon."

"Cool."

The Vulcan raised a brow. "I'm sorry Captain, but to what are you referring is cool? The ambient temperature currently reads 82 degrees with humidity levels at 76 percent."

"An expression Spock," Jim informed with a huff of exasperation. "You gotta stop taking stuff so literally."

"I see. I should assume then that you are finding my observations satisfactory?"

Jim pulled his lips in and pressed them thin while still managing a smile. "_Yes,_ Spock."

"Thank you Captain."

"No problem Spock." It was here that James began to amble away in search of something else to oversee. At that moment he wasn't too interested in seeking out Bones given how determined the doctor was to diagnose him with something horrendous. "Captain?"

"Yeah Spock?"

"May I speak with you briefly?"

"Sure," Jim would oblige, returning to Spock's side.

"Though this is a personal matter, I am compelled to ask your input as that it is valued. I have been contemplating proposing marriage to Lieutenant Uhura, though given the proximity of our work relationship and where each of us rank in the ship's hierarchy, I am wondering if such would be appropriate. While currently there is no Starfleet regulation against married couples operating together in a work environment, I am understanding that such situations can be frowned upon given potential conflicts of interest. ...Captain, why are you currently displaying such an expression? Is something the matter?"

Even when asked directly, Jim could only stare at his first officer with wide astonished eyes. "Holy crap Spock! You? _Married?_ This is _great!_" The blonde would gush, though being mindful to keep his voice down in light of the news. "I am not yet married Captain, I was merely contempla-"

"Spock I got it. But no, this is fantastic! When are you gunna pop the question?"

"Captain, have you not been listening? This is the very matter on which I am attempting to express my concerns." For a moment Jim went cross-eyed. "Spock you're _killin'_ me. Look, for the most part I think you two have been pretty hush-hush about your relationship. Really only a few people on the Enterprise know and if you wanted to keep nuptials low key, I don't see why you couldn't get married any time you want. I mean if you do ask her, I assume you aren't gunna wait until after we get back to Earth. Hell, we just left." To this, Spock looked thoughtful.

"Indeed we have. I have only arrived at this juncture late last evening." He paused. "Perhaps I will wait a while longer before I do officially propose marriage. I would imagine Lieutenant Uhura would prefer to discuss such a life event and its implications before finally settling on if she will or will not consider such a proposal." Jim's mouth pulled to one side as he eyeballed the mixed-blood. "_Or_ Spock," he would say somewhat dramatically, "you could just _surprise_ her. Girls like that too you know." The Vulcan frowned slightly. "There would be no logical reason to present a proposal of marriage without disclosing the line of thinking that preceded it."

"Spock you're hopeless."

"How so?"

* * *

Setbacks. Setbacks everywhere! He though only had himself to blame. If he had not failed repeatedly during the time of his initial awakening, he would not be in this most uncomfortable situation. Given his terroristic methodology in bruising badly Starfleet's image now over a year ago, nearly every entity in the organization had been more weary of threats both internal and external. Needless to say, his thefts the prior week were not helping to allay any fears. Security had tightened considerably and components he had acquired were found to be either faulty or not compatible as previously expected. A point of frustration, but not something that could not be overcome. That did not mean he appreciated the delays. Of course he was patient, but there was only so much time he could expend before certain windows of opportunity closed with no chance of reopening.

As he sat upon the carefully made bed that had not actually been slept in for days, Khan's mind turned to the crew that he had essentially abandoned yet again. There was a tremendous amount of guilt that pulsed through him at the thought, even though he knew very well that escape would be easiest when there were fewer of them. But admittedly he had made a mistake—not awaking at least one other with him. For all his superior physicality and intellect, he had failed to accept in timely fashion the simple notion that he was having difficulties _alone_. With a second mind and an additional pair of hands, he would have been able to more quickly negotiate the obstacles that barred his ability to leave Earth behind. _With_ his people. Yes, leave Earth behind to seek out the Enterprise and her wretched crew.

Khan could already feel himself seething.

Things actually could have been so much more different if Kirk had not decided to try his hand at a double-cross. He wouldn't have had the need to batter the Captain for instructing his Engineer to fire upon him. Just the same though it might not have mattered. It was doubtful Kirk would have just stood by and allowed him to cave that scoundrel Marcus' head in. But…as far as Khan was concerned, he had done Kirk a considerable service. Without him the Enterprise Captain would have been dead long before leaving Qo'noS, his beloved ship turned into little more than giant chunks of twisted space flotsam; the ungrateful bastard. It was the Vulcan half-breed however that set the super-human's teeth to gnashing. How could he have been so blind…so…so _stupid?_ There was a part of him however that reasonably explained how there was no way he could have known of the Vulcan's planned deception. Perhaps that was Khan's folly. He was ruthless and took some degree of pride in this characteristic of his, but he had been too focused on winning back his crew to ever suspect the Vulcan would arm the repurposed torpedoes, hopelessly crippling the Vengeance.

That was his _other_ folly. Honorably holding up his end of the bargain.

They could call him what they wanted, but he knew himself to be a gentleman who did not go back on his word. He had given the Enterprise back her Captain in exchange for a Trojan Horse. _Curse_ the mix-breed Spock. If it were possible, Khan was developing a hatred for the hybrid greater than he had for Admiral Alexander Marcus—a man he literally killed with his bare hands. Why that hatred? It was because the Vulcan had genuinely made a _fool_ of him, made a fool of him by exploiting his greatest _weakness_. Granted Khan had allowed it to happen, and because of that the result was the same…his being alone without his people. Without them on account of one damnable Vulcan.

In an instant, sudden rage swelled inside of the super-human has his face drew into hard lines of primal contempt, nostrils flaring hotly. A hand would flash out and snatch one of the two pillows upon the bed and within a few maddening seconds, white down feathers would settle like heavy snowfall littering the room. It was a childish tantrum, but it was far better than blowing his cover in an incendiary moment of passion-filled recklessness. He had made such a mess of his quarters though. Like the mess he would surely make of that abhorrent green-blooded filth. Had it not been for the Bantu woman's interference, he would have rightfully crushed the skull of that pointy-eared mutt as well. Another opportunity would certainly emerge. When the Enterprise was finally in his grasp, how he would relish _tearing_ anguish from the stoic Commander…it was a fitting recompense for letting him believe his family had been _obliterated_.

* * *

A/N: I honestly didn't want to spend too much more time on this chapter as I had devoted more energy to it than expected. I hope it didn't seem horribly muddled though I'm not sure if I've really gathered any rhythm here. Let's hope I can do better with the next chapter. Thanks for reading! Constructive criticism promotes better chapters.


	4. Chapter 4: Speaking of Pillows

A/N: I felt in this addition of A/N, I'd take a moment to point out both here and in my once more updated Summery that this is certainly a Slow Grow fic. To everyone reading and following this fic, I am immensely grateful that you would have enough patience to lope though this with me. Usual 'no ownership of licensed characters/settings'.

* * *

Chapter 4: Speaking of Pillows

As James Kirk's anti-luck would have it, enzymes from the leaf he brushed against really _did_ seep down to his skin and into his bloodstream through osmosis. Fortunately though he wasn't froth-mouthed or convulsing with spots and boils all over his body. He did however develop a blue tinted rash and consequently found himself within med-bay twice daily for a hypo and a lecture. Uhura would be lying to herself if she hadn't found humor in the irony of the situation. The sounds of soft jazz filled the room as Nyota curled in a plush chair. In her hands a language primer…ancient Vulcan, and for all her linguistic abilities, ancient Vulcan was _damn hard_. On several occasions Spock had seen her focusing on her project and had offered needed assistance-she didn't like to admit her Klingon was better than her Vulcan. After about the third hour the lieutenant had begun to lose focus, signaling to her that it was time to set Vulcan aside and head to bed. It was late. Standing up she'd give a deep stretch and a yawn before making her way to her beloved cotton sheets. Before she made it that far, the door alert sounded.

"Come in," the woman called, her voice just barely over the music. The door slid open mostly in silence, the caller stepping through. "Hey Spock," she grinned as she pulled off the oversized shirt she had been wearing. Tossing it on the bed, Nyota crossed the floor to Spock. When she had closed the distance, the Vulcan was already leaning in for the kiss Uhura would be looking for…and the one he enjoyed giving. "I almost didn't think you were coming tonight…it was starting to get late," she'd say as she sat down on the bed, a smile playing on her lips. "I apologize," was Spock's immediate response. "At the conclusion of our shift, I had gone to the labs in hopes of isolating a curative property that might relieve the Captain of his dermal inflammation. Though Doctor McCoy has been assisting my endeavor, we so far have been unsuccessful."

"Mmm-hmm," Nyota would murmur as she left the bed and stepped around to Spock's back, unfastening his shirt. "It must be bothering you…you've been at it for a week." With a single motion, Spock had liberated himself from his blue insignia over-shirt, folding it as he responded to Nyota's comment. "I admit to trace levels of frustration. The rash as I understand is at times painful for the Captain and though he attempts to conceal his discomfort, it is certainly apparent."

"You'll figure out something," Nyota replied encouragingly, taking Spock's shirt and placing it on a small nearby table. Spock in turn watched Nyota's retreating form, admiring the contours of her exposed back…_thinking_. In the next second, Nyota had returned, her eyes searching his face. "What is it? You've got 'that look'." Spock's obvious question was wordless, it could be read as easily as anything with that telling tilt of the head. "The look that says, 'something's on my mind'. Spill," she'd instruct as she climbed onto the bed once more, making sure to give her Vulcan the most generous view of her panty-covered derriere as possible. Spock merely stood in silence, whether he was formulating a response or 'taking it all in' was for Uhura to guess. As if to purchase himself more time, Spock would pull off his fitted black uniform undershirt. "Allow me to shower," he'd say at last. "I shall return shortly."

_Must be serious'_, the woman thought to herself as the Vulcan disappeared, the shower starting moments after. In the meantime Uhura took to lounging on her back and staring to the ceiling, doing her best to not wonder what made Spock practically run away into the bathroom. In a few minutes though she'd have her answer as the water stopped. Uhura eyed him as he emerged, a bathing towel slung on his hips as he moved to a drawer he had been keeping fresh clothing in.

"Hey," she called out, stopping him. "Leave the towel, come as you are," Nyota would grin devilishly. In turn Spock offered his lover an obliging look, removing the towel and stowing it neatly to dry. Even now he held fast to neatness and order, a trait she hardly had issue with. When he finally drew near, Nyota reached out and lazily snagged Spock's wrist, half pulling him onto the bed. He'd roll onto his back quickly, Uhura removing the space between them while looking into his chestnut colored eyes. She'd rub her nose against his slightly before pressing into a kiss far more indulging than the first they had shared. Slipping a long leg over his abdomen, Nyota was soon straddling Spock as his hands slid up her back toward her shoulders where he would squeeze lightly.

"Nyota," Spock uttered in a substantially thicker voice after temporarily breaking their kiss. "Yeah?" It came more as a breath than a fully formed word. "I would like to talk to you about something." Another look into the Vulcan's warm eyes suggested that whatever he wanted to talk about _right then_ mustn't have been all _that_ bad; he had the barest hints of a smile on his smooth handsome face.

"I had been debating on when the optimal time to have this conversation would be, but as we are sharing an intimate moment…I believe now to be an ideal opportunity. Nyota, I immensely enjoy your companionship. With you, I have taken more effort to explore my emotional nature than I ever have throughout my life. You serve as an inspiration and remind me in your own gentle way that it is alright to feel. It is because of this I would like to share these thoughts with you." A hand moved to lightly caress the side of her cheek before letting it rest there. "My father had told me why he and my mother were together for as long as they were. His answer in all sensibility was rather simple, he loved her and was…_in_ love with her." In seconds, Spock's other hand would join the first as he now cradled Uhura's face. "I have after some time, come to recognize that what I feel for you is something I desire to experience for the rest of my natural life." As her lover went on, Nyota, for all her skill in spoken language, still managed to find herself caught in a fog of sudden illiteracy. What was Spock say saying? Well, she _knew_ what he was saying, she could hear him quite well, but it was what he seemed to be getting at…

No, no she couldn't jump to such far-fetched conclusions. It however, was now her turn to be the open book.

"I _am_ in love with you Nyota and it is an emotion that has been steadily intensifying over the duration of our courtship." A pause. "I would like for you…to become my life-mate."

And there it was, the hammer drop. Uhura wasn't even aware that she had been holding her breath. It was only the pressure of burning lungs that reminded her to release and breathe in. Her mind was _blown_.

"I have given this proposal considerable thought before expressing it," Spock added hastily as Nyota had failed thus far to respond. "I wasn't sure if-"

"_Yes_ Spock," Nyota would finally bleat, her voice half catching. "Yes, I will…oh my God, _yes I will_." She was damn near dizzy. For Spock there was most definitely an emotional surge, though he could not readily identify it. Joy, relief? _Euphoria?_ Deep down in the metaphorical seat of Spock's soul, the little round-eared and wild-haired human inside of him was hosting a one man firework cavalcade. Perhaps it was more than reasonable to allow that side of him a bit of freedom and Spock-for likely the first time-came as close to a toothy grin as anyone would ever see. Jim would certainly approve.

* * *

Honestly he felt _ridiculous_. Cooped up in that small apartment for weeks, he could barely recognize himself when he finally set this latest plan into motion. He had grown facial hair and it was something he disliked a great deal. Given the meticulous care he reserved for his appearance, facial hair seemed unnecessary and provided an almost barbaric edge to what otherwise would be smooth clean lines. And it itched. Despite his prejudice against wearing _whiskers_, having them would reduce the ability to be swiftly recognized by those who happened to pass a cursory glance over him. He had also colored his hair and…haphazardly manicured goatee. Several shades lighter he had taken it, to a murky blonde; something to let him blend effortlessly into the background. He had also opted to get a temporary pigment change to his irises, a dull and homely brown. It wasn't much of a disguise given his noticeable features, but being in plain sight at all times was not his objective.

His clothing was as unassuming as he could make them; dark boots, trousers, a dark grey shirt and dusty windbreaker. They were more than ideal for the task as functionality was essential. The crossing signal illuminated and the super-human traversed the wide street and into the Starfleet Headquarters promenade. In another quarter hour, activities would be winding down for the night. Most non-essential personnel had already departed and shifts were changing, giving Khan just enough window to slip in without garnering attention. Locating a small electrical closet on the third floor of the flagship building, he'd close himself in and wait until the Headquarters settled into light sleep. Pulling the small pack from his shoulders, he took from it a P.A.D.D. to confirm again his route and location of surveillance cameras along the plotted course. As much as it would please him to blast into the place, collect his people and leave all of San Francisco a smoldering crater, patience and stealth was essential for maximizing his success. He examined the clock on his P.A.D.D. Six hours he was to be sequestered in that warm 4x6 closet. For all his preparation and attention to detail, this certainly would be a long six hours.

* * *

A/N: I hope I didn't muddle this chapter too much. I promise it'll get interesting eventually as I continue to mold summery information to better fit the developing mood of the story. Thanks for reading! Constructive critiques breed improvements for your enjoyment!


	5. Chapter 5: Tomb Raider

A/N: Greetings. I figure I'd let Khan headline this chapter a bit with a healthy dose of introspection. Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

Chapter 5: Tomb Raider

The hall was quiet, and so too were his footfalls sinking into the industrial and high traffic carpet. Had this been a simple exercise in hide-seek-and-destroy, he might have gleaned a bit of enjoyment out of his covert objective. But this was not a task that elected amusement. Rather it inspired vexation at the rampart disrespect that had been offered he and his kind. Starfleet really was so terribly full of itself—especially that cadaver Marcus. His death was not satisfying. Not at all. Really it served more of a distraction in retrospect, a tangent en route to the true revenge that would be far more fulfilling. Killing the hybrid Spock would hardly be enough. No, that emotionally stunted mutt had to _suffer_. And suffer he would when the time finally came.

Stepping into a shallow alcove just before the monitored area of the first surveillance camera, Khan allowed himself one short breath before activating his home-brewed feed jammer. A weak clipped burst of electromagnetic distortion to interfere with the camera for a few brief seconds-just enough to have him pass undetected while the little machine blinked the interference out of its mechanical eye. Tucking out of sight to the next alcove Khan would pause, waiting. No alarms were raising, no weapons were discharging. So far so good—the next camera was just ahead. Again he discharged his jammer, disrupting the surveillance feed and permitting the recently blonde interloper to continue through the empty halls. The next waypoint, the next camera. Apply jammer, move to the next spot. This same formula repeated itself over and over all the way down the halls and various corridors until Khan was back in familiar territory…the same hall he had passed through on his original departure from the building. There was a bit of a catch this time however…a night patrol was present. For that, the dull eyed-super-human had to resist rolling his augmented orbs. A single sentry it was, a man that couldn't have been out of his twenties. Khan watched his face from behind a decorative planter as the sentry came down the hall. He looked bored given his near meandering gait and expression that sung inattentiveness. It was in that moment the predator in Khan had to resist. It would have been nothing to reach out and subdue that man…watch terror dance across his countenance before the light finally receded from his eyes.

Khan's heart quickened at the thought. Like the creature Lestat* waiting in the wings to snare an unsuspecting youth, conquering it in violent thirst-quenching appraisal, the centuries old warlord felt the damning compulsion to end the sentry's life. But Khan wasn't one for senseless killing. Every person slain by his hand directly or by proxy was done so with discrimination and precision. Therefore despite the bloodlust that swam in him, he knew without having to remind himself that the sentry was supposed to _live_. That man alone did not represent the whole of Starfleet, though he was certainly a member of the very organization that turned the tattered remains of Khan's life into a pillar of misery, hatred and loneliness. The true face of Starfleet-for all Khan knew at the moment-was halfway across the galaxy…along with his dead-Vulcan-walking first officer. From his vantage point behind the planters, Khan watched the sentry continue on his patrol till near out of sight, failing his job impressively given his inscrutable lack of awareness. Yes, how disrespectful Starfleet had been…to have such an oblivious cur stand watch over the most powerful human beings the world had ever known. Did they not deserve more than that?

The final surveillance camera was jammed.

…And he only had a few additional seconds before said camera completed its panning circuit and recorded him hacking the lock on the tomb of his people. He though would not be caught. As planned the thick door slid open just barely, the darkness within inviting him like an old friend. Once inside with the door closed carefully behind him, Khan could only shake his head. It was not often one broke _back_ into the prison they were only so lucky to slither out from in the first place. His hand reached for the panel, activating the lights in the storage area. Before him seventy-two cryotubes lay on their tables secured in place by black straps and silvery fasteners. The seventy-third stood open…left exactly has it had been at the moment of his reawakening, an observation that had Khan stiflingly a disbelieving titter. No one had checked; no one had remotely suspected anything was _wrong_. The whole situation was bordering on ridiculous. Stepping farther into the chamber, he came to the first of the cryotubes and peer inside its frosted interior. Standing there for a long while, his chest heaved in a heavy but mostly soundless sigh. This would have been the first time he had looked upon his people since concealing them in the torpedoes he had designed for that warmonger in Admiral's clothing.

A hand reached out to the side of the cryotube…to steady its owner. The memories and the pain that came with them flooded back with a force strong enough to shake the darkly brooding soldier. Only thrice his life had Khan Noonien Singh felt so utterly powerless, so _lacking_ in control of his own destiny. The first when he was forced to self-banish himself from Earth along with his brethren at the turn of the millennium, condemned to eternal sleep drifting frozen among the stars. The second was when Marcus had woken him and threatened his exceedingly vulnerable people in return for utter subservience. The final time was onboard the Vengeance. At the end of that trial, everything had been in his favor. He had the more capable ship, his revenge on Marcus, and those who opposed him on the receiving end of a powerful volley of advanced and destructive weaponry. But Spock…oh that _Spock_ had done to him what Marcus could not.

Bring him to his knees.

Khan would squeeze his eyes shut so tightly the muscles strained. It was a thick and braided scar that the half-breed had left on him. In truth his crew had never been endangered but for many soul decimating hours-days-Spock as well as a myriad of others had allowed him to believe that such a horror was his reality. This idea clung to him, permeated him, kept coming back to haunt him. He would never forget that feeling, and the feelings that followed. For a moment he could scarcely fathom how one lowly creature could inspire him to such madness. The same hand that had reached out to the cryotube now drug affectionately over it. He had shaken Starfleet so badly that during his arraignment, they felt it necessary to medicate him throughout the process and subsequent sentencing. For all of his endurance and inherent resistances, they had made sure to keep him in a draining fog, so much so that it barely registered to him they would be returning him to stasis. One thread of information however had managed to worm its way into the drug-induced spell they placed him under: _'with your crew'_. Khan had been pumped so full of powerful sedatives that day he couldn't even speak to confirm if he had even heard correctly. It was when he had awoken the second time was he able to know for sure…when he was actually in the room with them. But being with them again was almost all that he needed. Almost. He had to get them out of there once and for all.

With a certain level of resolve, he walked the thicket of cryotubes examining each one for a few moments—saying the names of their occupants in his head. The act empowered him, seeing them and rolling their names in his mind. At last he settled on one cryotube in particular. It was next to his open one, the one he had pointedly rigged to auto-release after a set time, allowing him to awaken. He turned his eyes to the person inside, a female. Manipulating the circular control panel on the tube, Khan watched the frosted haze clear and the color return to the woman's face. The sheath slid open and she would take a long draw of breath as grey green eyes drug open. They angled ever so lightly in her waker's direction. "Khan?" the woman questioned in a sigh, regarding him with sleep addled confusion. A warm smile spread onto his face, the bitterness he felt moments ago mercifully replaced with a deeply replenishing joy. "Good morning Lilith, it is good to see you."

* * *

A/N: (*) The mentioning of this particular name was meant to highlight a comparison and is in no way meant to utilize Ann Rice's literarily significant character in a fiction piece, keeping in line with FFN's policy of respecting the mentioned author's documented wishes in regards to fan works.

Also I hope the chapter was ok and not too overdone. Really please tell me how it was so I can better tailor the experience the next time around. Otherwise I'll still keep plodding along. Thanks for reading.


	6. Chapter 6: Oversight

A/N: Greetings all. This was a lengthy chapter. I was actually going to cut it short, but this one kinda had a mind of its own so I ran with it. Usual disclaimer. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 6: Oversight

The traditional vodka and orange Screwdriver was set before Uhura as a Cosmopolitan was placed before Carol. Both would give a curt nod to the attendant before focusing on their drinks and the conversation at hand. "Alright so," Carol began in her crisp English accent, flashing her broad white teeth in an anticipatory smile. "You've had me wondering all day about this juicy news you have to share, so…let's hear it!" Unconsciously Uhura gave a glance around the Enterprise's galley and mess. Tables and booths held crewmembers from all over the ship, most simply relaxing over conversation, dinner or a game of holo-chess. As it stood, no one was straining to listen in on the information she was preparing to disclose to the sunny blonde across the table—it was safe to speak. Uhura leaned over just a bit keeping her voice low, the ghost of her own smile beginning to form on her face. "Spock asked me to marry him." Carol's eyes in turn nearly bulged from her head as she took in a hushed gasp, her face lighting up like a Christmas tree. "Oh my god! When? When did he ask you?"

"Last night. I could barely believe it," Uhura responded, her fingertips coming over her mouth to camouflage the giddy expression plastered on her face. "That is so smashingly perfect! Oh my god, this is fantastic! Do you all have a date set?" Carol would gush, the girl trying to keep her voice down in the midst of so many crew within potential earshot. "Oh no, not yet," Uhura replied quickly, neither woman yet having touched their drinks. "It was late last night and after he popped the question we kinda just had lots and lots of unbelievably great sex."

"Oooh!" Carol squealed. "I bet you were nearly late for your shift this morning," she added, her smirk and subsequent brow raise highly accusatory. "Almost," Uhura admitted, finally picking up her drink and sipping at its skinny black straw. It was here that Carol stole a glance at Uhura's naked finger, giving pause before jumping into the next question. "So, are you two going to do rings?" Uhura suddenly appeared thoughtful as if the concept had not occurred to her until that exact moment. "You know, I don't know. I mean, I would like to think we were doing something but…"

"Of course you're going to do something! You _have_ to have a ring to let the universe know that you're taken! It's the rules!"

"Yeah but, it's not like we have a jeweler two decks up with a case full of rings to choose from. Who's to say that Spock didn't think of this before we left Earth? He might have one stowed away or something," Uhura said trying to convince herself, an effort that only drew a largely unconvinced expression from Carol. "Okay then why wouldn't he just give it to you when he asked? It's kind of a package deal. Vulcan or no, he should understand _that_." Uhura shrugged as she watched Carol finally partake of her own beverage. "True. Maybe he really _did_ just decide to up and ask…but five years is a helluva long time to wait on a ring," she commented twisting her lips into a pout. "I'm sure he'll think of something creative," Carol returned comfortingly.

"Or maybe not. He's got a brain the size of Jupiter and is lightspeed on his feet, but sometimes things like that…don't really _occur_ to him. He is all…Captain Logic and what not," Uhura quipped with a grin before sipping again on her drink. "Haha, this is an accurate statement. But, ring or no ring-and there absolutely _must_ be a ring-are you going to wait to get back to Earth to have a ceremony? I mean, I know its way early to be talking about a set date, but you can't tell me you haven't been thinking about it all day."

"Oh I certainly have been, and over my dead body are we going to wait five whole years to have the wedding," Uhura asserted with determination. "Plus given the senior staff's track record for getting into life threatening situations, I would want to keep my title as 'Spock's wife' for as long as I can." Carol laughed. "Well, that's one way to look at it."

* * *

Kirk threw a hard left, faked right and went for his second jab. Each was deflected or dismissed as necessary. He let his feet do the moving after that, keeping his steps light and variable while training his eye on a distinctly unflappable opponent. A left. A right. A focused breath would push out of pursed lips as he planned his next attack. Swing, slap, swing slap. Ineffective. Shift, strike…slap. Shuffle. Breathe. Try again. Slap, slap…rebuff. "_Damnit_ Spock."

"I believe this would be an ideal opportunity to congratulate you on your improvements in unarmed melee combat Captain, however concentration is key if you intend to land an actual blow." Kirk rolled his eyes. "Thanks a lot. Maybe you should try being in my shoes for a bit, you'll see how hard it is."

"Captain, such conjecture on my part will not assist you in your effort to increase your speed, accuracy and by proxy, your technique and skill. I would suggest-"

"So did you ask her?"

Spock frowned at the sudden change of subject. "Ask who what Captain?"

"Christ Spock. Let's just take a break for now kay?" Jim didn't wait for Spock's reply before he moved away from him, snatching a white Starfleet monogramed towel and wiping his brow with it. He and Spock had been sparring for roughly an hour, or rather, Jim had spent the last hour simply attempting to make Spock try a little harder to defend himself. Jim had been largely unsuccessful. By the time he draped his towel about his shoulders, his Vulcan sparring partner was handing him a decanter of water which he gratefully took.

"Ahhh," the Enterprise Captain spouted audibly, rehydrating before regarding Spock again from where they had left off in conversation. "Uhura _man_! Did you ask her to be your boo?"

"An archaic shortening and gender neutralization of the slang term beau; used to describe one's significant other," Spock observed. "If you are asking if I have proposed marriage to Lieutenant Uhura, I have. I, at your suggestion, opted to surprise her." Jim's expression immediately brightened. "Atta'boy Spock!" He'd exclaim, clapping a hand on the side of his friend's shoulder. "What'd she say?"

"She did say yes," the Vulcan responded, the rare play of a smile on his face.

"Ha haaa! _Boss!_ Congratulations my friend, I'll be sure to drink a stiff one for ya!" The Captain chirped, grinning widely. "So, what kinda ring did ya get her?"

"While it is customary practice for one proposing marriage to a human woman to present a ring of betrothal, I am regretful that I do not have such a token. It did not occur to me that I would be opting to bond with Uhura until after we left Earth, preventing me from making such arrangements."

"_What?_" Jim questioned incredulously. "No ring? Spock, come on man, that's a major party foul. You gotta get her a ring. It's the right thing to do."

"And where does the Captain suggest that I acquire this ring? A traditional engagement ring usually comprises a least one cut diamond and a band fashioned from precious metals—neither of which are in abundant supply here on the Enterprise."

"Come _on_ Spock, you gotta get creative! Hell even a ring made of copper would work…it's the _idea_ behind it. You do something to let her know that this isn't just a verbal contract without any type of investment. A ring tells the world, or at least the ship 'hey, eyes off my lady she's off the market'," Jim informed seriously. Spock didn't answer right away, but his expression was telling. "Spock, get her a damn ring even if you have to MacGyver that sucker from phaser guts and string." The Commander raised another brow. "MacGyver? Are you referring to-"

"Spock, get Nyota a ring, that's an order."

* * *

Slender fingers would curl around the offered hand assisting her out of the cryotube. Bare feet met booted ones as unsteady legs were used for the first time in centuries. "You look different."

"Hmm. Yes. By design, but a short lived addition I assure."

"…I don't much care for the color."

A smile. "Nor do I. But it was sensible, all things considered. How do you feel?"

"…I'm not sure. How long have we been in stasis? Have we arrived on the new world yet?" Lilith's eyes fell over the room for a moment, more questions forming all the while. "This…doesn't look like the Botany Bay at all."

"Because it isn't. We are in a storage chamber on Earth. This chamber is kept and monitored by an organization known as _Starfleet_." The word was spoken as if it were the devil incarnate.

"Earth?" Brows furrowed immediately. "But I don't understand we-"

"Three hundred years we have been in stasis Lilith. The star-lock navigation system onboard the Botany Bay…was flawed. We never reached our targeted exile world. I do not know how long we were adrift before our ship was discovered, but I will say that our rescue, for lack of a better term was dubious at best."

Lilith made a face as if she was trying to absorb this startling information all at once. After a second had past, the woman asked the only logical question. "What now?"

"Now, we escape."

"Escape? W-why? Three hundred years later we are still needing to run? Khan I don't understand." Khan only shook his head. "Lilith, as much as I would like to explain the precarious and convoluted nature of our situation, we do not have the time. Assist me with reviving the others whom I designate." For an instant the look in Lilith's searching eyes suggested she wished to question this selective revival, but thought quickly against it. She knew better than to challenge Khan on any of his decisions. "Yes Khan," she'd respond humbly, waiting for her instructions. "Aakar, Aavai, Devindar, Kaida, Roe, Oren, Sven. Awake the latter three, I shall wake the former."

"Yes Khan."

The two spread out quickly scanning each of the cryotubes with only their eyes, fingers flying over panels to rouse the long slumbering members of Khan's crew he saw fit to bring around. There was little order to the arrangement of the tubes given that those who put them there saw no need for particular placement. After several moments, the selected tubes were open and those within were blinking themselves awake. Like Lilith and even Khan before them, each would emerge from their respective tubes in little more than black fitted skivvies. "My people," Khan would say at last when all were standing and coherent. "We are now in a new era. We are again on Earth three hundred years after our original exodus. As when we departed, we are still in peril. We are currently confined to a containment room inside of a building located in the city of San Francisco. As I have explained to Lilith whom I have woken only minutes prior to the rest of you, there is a pressing need to vacate our present position. As of now I cannot afford to move all of us at once. Though the security that I have observed thus far is lax, I am not aware of the mitigating variables that would otherwise permit all of us to leave together. Therefore I have selected each of you given your battle prowess and for your ability to be covert should the situation arise. I do not believe I need to explain to you the merits of lateral thinking. By quietly exiting this building, we give ourselves the opportunity to return better prepared to take back the rest of our numbers without the need for such finesse."

"Can we not arm ourselves with something more than our fists Khan?" It was Roe, a youthful platinum blonde man with pale blue eyes. His body was lithe and toned but he was shown to be slight, especially when standing next to the much larger frame of Sven. "Take a gander at the starkness of our surroundings Roe," Khan would regard sternly, his eyes growing hard as they focused on the young man. "We have only ourselves and our superiority to lean upon. Clothing and other such luxuries will have to wait until we are not at risk of being immediately eradicated." The tone of Khan's voice suggested he was not entertaining anymore questions. "I shall open the door and clear the area. You will follow on my mark and move as a unit to reduce our footprint. There are decorative stone planters just to the left of this chamber. Once I give the signal we-"

"Khan," a soft voice interjected. Khan would pause, eyeing the new speaker, waiting to see if his ire would be well placed. Kaida, a dark eyed and bronze skinned beauty would give a sheepish expression, but spoke quickly. "Forgive me please but, Khan, what is that?" Immediately all brows creased as Kaida raised an arm, pointing her finger at a small thin cylinder perhaps five inches in length and greatly resembled an ancient pitot tube. It hung from the ceiling high above in the upper right hand corner of the room. Khan stared at the object, his mind whirring in an attempt to place the purpose of the item he himself had not noticed before it was pointed out. "…"

"…"

"…"

"…Ready yourselves."

Nary a second had passed before the doors slid open fully and a barrage of white phaser fire poured into the chamber, all of it aimed at the now scattering super-humans. Bodies dove behind the only cover at hand, the cryotubes of their brothers and sisters. Khan, who had ducked by an open tube, scowled at the rapidly spiraling pandemonium. How had this happened? How could the enemy have been alerted? Was it that object Kaida pointed out? There was no other explanation…that single sentry couldn't have found them out simply by overhearing them, could he have? No, the door was much too thick for that. Regardless of the how or the why, they had been discovered and the very thing that Khan was hoping to avoid was currently unfolding in a hail of debilitating energy blasts. There were only nine of them and at the moment they were being pinned down with few options afforded. Fortunately Khan seldom allowed himself to be without any sort of recourse. From the folds of his clothing he produced an item. He had constructed it along with the host of other things he had fabricated for his plot, though it had limited use as best. He minded it not…there were times where he need only create an opening. A small projectile firearm. Small ball bearings fashioned into full metal shells. The derringer-styled weapon was in Khan's hands in an instant, his still-brown eyes searching for the thing that could give him leverage in this battle.

He chanced a look as phaser fire crackled by him. He counted nine Starfleet security officers.

Keeping low to the ground, he would find a target and pull the trigger.

And then there were eight.

A small device suddenly bounced into the chamber, the round object spitting a white mist at high velocity in all directions. They were trying to incapacitate them. With another scowl, Khan made his spot-checks to find a better vantage point. A viable one in sight, the leader of the insurgent band would tuck and roll hard under the expanding white mist and let off another round from his tiny weapon. Seven now. Toward the back of the room he could hear the coughs of his newly awakened group. Time was running out before the lot of them were completely outnumbered and largely outgunned. From the corner of his eye, he was sure he had seen Sven charge the straight away, drawing the bulk of the fire to himself. A noble sacrifice that bought them all precious seconds to turn this last stand into something salvageable. Khan fired off another shot, another human went down. One round left, best to make it count.

In the shadow of the still expanding mist, a diminutive figure skirted the far wall of the chamber and to Khan's great pleasure, a litany of cries would raise as one of his people had fought their way into an advantageous position. Pulse rifles clattered to the ground as the sounds of snapping necks rang free. From behind the other cryotube, popping over it, Khan found a target and dropped him quickly…right between the eyes. Garbled gasps reached his ears as more Starfleet security officers were subdued. The phaser fire continued for a few shots more before that last human too was quieted. Sven was already being assisted to his feet by Aakar and Devindar. Oren looked phased but capable and the girls had adjusted well. Roe and Aavai were by his side asking after him. "Khan, are you well?"

"Yes I'm fine," he snapped hotly, jumping to his feet and exiting the chamber. "Arm yourselves quickly with those rifles, more will be coming." This statement went without saying. Alarms by then were blaring and automated voices were outlining directions to the site of the firefight. In moments the building would be under complete lockdown and escape would be neigh impossible. "Khan, Sven is-"

"Does he live?"

"Yes but,"

"Bring him then!" It was Khan's last order before he rushed the halls with his band following—barefoot and unaccustomed to the threats they were facing. Though he barely had time for the thought, Khan couldn't keep it from flashing in his mind. His people were _good_ soldiers. They had been awake for less than ten minutes, yet they leapt into battle against enemies unknown in nothing but their underwear. Nevertheless, a sense of failure managed to worm its way into Khan's consciousness even as the forward part of his thinking focused only on escape. There was something so _critical_ that he had missed. Little though it was, the impact had been enormous and it, tragically, might have cost him the remaining sixty-four members of the maligned Botany Bay. The thunder of footsteps filled the corridors as more of Starfleet security raced to intercept them. Having claimed a pulse rifle himself, the warlord had his acquired weapon poised to fire on the first uniform, the first _human_ he saw. Around him his warriors had formed a delta storming pattern brandishing guns they had never used as if they were standard issue for them. "Thirteen yards ahead on the left there is a stairwell that leads to the ground floor. That door will be secured. Defeat it quickly."

"Yes Khan," the forward members would affirm as battle prepared to begin anew. At once streams of phaser stuns blazed in their direction. In this portion of the hall there was no cover to take and in so, they rushed headlong into the barrage. "Keep Sven in the center, I'll cover the rear." Letting the group move ahead a few paces, Khan eyed their blindside, expecting fully an assault to come from behind. He would not be disappointed. "HALT!" One of the officers cried amid the chaos. Khan returned by blasting him in the chest, a smoldering depression at the site of the shot. The humans had their rifles set to stun, Khan had set his to kill. This of course was not met affectionately by their pursuers, who immediately opened fire. A wail erupted from one of the women as a stun blast struck her left shoulder. _"Surrender immediately or we will use lethal force!"_ Khan's steely orbs were alight with focus as he discharged another shot, turning that other man's face into a burnt pit. Surely that was Starfleet's last straw when the white stun light of the phaser fire had taken on an angry orange quality. Barks of pain and surprise lit up on both sides as Khan made the seemingly longest thirteen yard push of his life. He had already been struck twice. First a graze on the left thigh that was shrugged off with relative ease, but a second hit to just below his right knee had toppled him completely, third degree burns searing his flesh. A growl escaped his lips as the security officers seemed to clone themselves. For every one he killed, two more sprung up to replace them.

"Khan!" Devindar shouted as the man scrambled to pick his leader up and provide suppression fire at the same time. A flash whizzed by Khan's face as Devindar fell to his knees, shot in the stomach. Undaunted in the midst of bloodshed, Khan's vision panned quickly. He couldn't afford to lose track of his crew or their objective. He also needed to see just how many more officers there were to cut down before they could reach the stairwell. _"Ruuhhhaa!"_ Khan would howl at the top of his lungs. Despite this, he couldn't be bothered to assess the new damage he had just taken. The burnt hole in the side of his shirt only hinted at the charred ribs he was suddenly in possession of. He held his breath as his vision blurred ever so slightly. Whatever happened past this point, Khan only knew one thing. He would not, _could not_ meet his demise here. There was too much left to do and a gaggle of trigger-happy, no-name, lucky-shot bastards would not keep him from his conquest. In an instant however, Khan had the sensation he was being drug, though he couldn't be sure.

"Go, hurry! Down the stairs!"

"Khan, _Khan!_"

His head was swimming and the voices he heard, though familiar, were muffled and distant.

"Khan! Khan you have to tell us which way! They are _coming!_"

"Don't let him close his eyes!"

"Khan, _please_, tell us _what to do!_"

His lucidity was flowing from him, but through the dim forest of his senses, a part of him was aware that his people _needed_ him. Without his guidance, they would be slaughtered where they stood. "Keep…keep to the far right overpass. A…a manhole there." It was a struggle to simply move his lips. It was more of a struggle to use words and have them make any sense. _'Just let them get out of here,'_ the voice inside of his head whispered, but to whom? All at once there was a loud noise and a burst of cool air on his skin. There were bright lights. He felt himself being bumped and jostled. There was yelling, a terribly great deal of yelling and the sounds of phaser rifles discharging. The world was even more blurred than it had been and now it was to the point that nothing seemed distinguishable any longer—he tried to look, but couldn't see anything. At last there was large and heavy clank and the world went quiet. Lingering. Still.

Cold.

* * *

A/N: Not sure when I'll get the next chapter up, but something tells me it might not be as long as this one was. We'll see however. Thanks for reading. Review as you feel. See you later!


	7. Chapter 7: Destinations

A/N: omg ok, so I figured this chapter would be a while, but I didn't plan on it taking so long. I started to write it, then sat on it, came back and realized I hated it, so I scraped the page worth that I wrote and re-did it. Sat on it a few days more and picked away until I was satisfied. The second section thankfully came a lot faster. Usual disclaimer.

* * *

Chapter 7: Destinations

There was movement. Or at least the shadow of movement. Whispers came and went in the darkness, the world seeming as if it existed in the depths of a bottomless ocean. He felt numb, and that numbness was everywhere. It permeated his non-existent limbs, leaving him to feel as though wrapped in a tight, inescapable cocoon. While not ignorant to the sensations of restriction and confinement-there was a kind of serenity to be found in it-_this_ was suffocating. Claustrophobic. An unknown dwelled there, an unknown that he himself did not create.

Dung colored eyes drug open to faded light as he began to gasp. Instead of a smooth clean flow however, his breath was wet and wrought with the coppery fume of blood. There was only a scant few times where Khan could ever recall tasting his own blood, but when he had, it had never been like this. The worst of it though, was that he could not seem to rise above his discomfort or look past the strange pain that seemed to be coming from everywhere.

"Khan?"

The questioning sound of his uttered name angered him. He could not see where the voice calling it had come from; could not follow it, could not find it. He was prepared to snarl that displeasure, but with every shallow breath he found that he couldn't manage more than…nothing. He closed his eyes back. The coppery fumes came again. "It will only be a matter of time before those others find us and given what has happened, I doubt they will be lenient. Khan is the only one who knows what is going on and if we intend on having him survive this ordeal, we must act."

"And what shall we do then Roe? We are cornered in this place and our options are limited." Though Lilith spoke to Roe, her attention was on Aakar and Khan. She watched with worried eyes as the man worked intently but carefully with scant and ineffective materials on their grievously injured leader—anything to patch the air-exposed hole in his lung. His eyes had opened briefly…this was good, but their situation was far from improving. "Kaida," the woman would ask quietly. "Did you figure out what that device was from Khan's pack?"

"No," she sighed. "I'm not even sure how to turn it on…if it even is meant to do it."

"Unbelievable," Roe would grumble as he stood up from the cold concrete, mindful not to aggravate the nasty scald on his left forearm. He stalked to Kaida and snatched the item from her. Looking over the glass object, he frowned at the substantial crack down the center of its glass screen. Kaida wore an indignant scowl at Roe's impatience. "And you feel you can do better?"

"Perhaps…at least I'll do more than stare stupidly at it."

"Stop squabbling and figure it out," Lilith would suddenly snap, hushing whatever defensive remark Kaida would have retorted with. "They'll start searching for us on foot if they haven't already."

In the seconds that followed, no one said anything. Kaida for the time being assessed the wound on her own shoulder gained in the fight. It hurt terribly but she was fine to ignore it. Finally the girl would glance over the rest of her crewmates. None had escaped unscathed. While Khan was the worst off, Devindar hardly fared better. At least though he was conscious and able to move under his own power. For what it was worth, Oren sat beside him, ready to assist should it be needed. He too had burns, but they were mostly superficial, inconsequential. Sven's back was a fright, but it could hardly be helped given he was a sizable target and none of them had any protective gear. Perhaps it was because of his size and formidable strength that Sven was able to shrug off what Kaida knew to be something just short of agony. Then there was Lilith and Aavai. Like her, they had managed to avoid the more serious burns. This fact though hardly promoted comfort among them…or it certainly didn't seem that way. "What will we do if they find us again?" Kaida hazarded the question with trepidation, her own eyes going from Lilith to Khan and back again. The query was likely pointless, but really she just couldn't help but ask.

"Maybe…we should surrender?" Another voice—Aavai's—would offer humbly. Aavai's words caught Kaida unaware. The others seemed unprepared for the response as well, least of all Lilith. Upon hearing this, Lilith's nostrils flared hard as her face swirled into sharp displeasure. Her following actions upon Aavai were swift, the heavy-handed slap across the man's cheek echoing through the cool passages. Aavai's surprise at the strike quickly turned to anger, but the dangerous flash in Lilith's eyes forced reconsideration. "How _dare_ you suggest such cowardice? If our straits weren't so dire I'd dispatch you _myself_," she glowered, her threat more a promise than a show of dominance. "Perhaps Lilith you failed to notice those soldiers were not trying to kill us until _after_ we began felling their comrades. Their weapons had two distinct categorical strengths and only when we continued our resistance did they start using the more powerful settings. Clearly they weren't trying to harm us at the outset," Aavai argued, bite in his words as he opted to continue. "What is to say that they wouldn't-"

"Khan must have had his reasons for our fighting back," Kaida said in interruption, more or less siding with Lilith, an action that hopefully would keep the woman from mauling Aavai for his apparent willingness to cow.

"…The tablet." A sudden hush would fall over the group as the faint and straining murmur of Khan's voice filled the space. Immediately Roe would approach Khan, whose right hand had lifted, reaching tiredly for the P.A.D.D. in Roe's grasp. Khan himself felt uncommonly weak, but even in his damaged state, his pride would not let him appear that way. He had heard quite enough. Fingers tapped lightly on the cracked screen activating sewer schematics loaded into the onboard memory. Though his mind was a soupy bank of stinging fog, Khan was fairly sure his original plans, which had been based on he and his crew _not_ being discovered, had been compromised at the very least. As always however, Khan went to great lengths to ensure that there were other options…even if they were far from preferred. It was now time to utilize those contingences. His crew watched his meticulous handling of the P.A.D.D. as he highlighted a route that would lead them from both the sewers and ultimately Starfleet's dogged pursuit. When he was finished, Khan forced himself to look at Lilith with dim glassy eyes. The hand holding the P.A.D.D. moved slightly in the woman's direction, prompting her to take it from him. In turn Lilith took the P.A.D.D. from Khan, the route he had pulled onto the cracked screen blinking promised salvation. It was going to be up to her to take the group the rest of the way…an unspoken reality given she was the first that Khan awoke and was also now differing to. "Alright, let's-" Lilith cut herself off, canting her head slightly as if listening for something.

She could hear distant footsteps. They all could. At once each revived member of the Botany Bay turned to the other, the gravity of their impending situation heavy upon them. Starfleet was coming, but at present they were not close. Lilith circled her wrist, her index finger up, signaling her crewmates to follow and remain on her. Silently they picked themselves up, moving in the direction indicated on the glass data tablet. Khan still could not walk and thus was left in Sven's care for transport as Aakar remained beside them both. As they traveled through the angular tunnels, Lilith couldn't help but wonder if wherever they were headed, they could do something more for Khan there. Without him they could of course still find a way to carry on; he would have demanded such. But life in this future time would be hell without his leadership. Despite whatever had occurred with Khan to have Starfleet so hotly after them, his presence was an assurance and utterly necessary. His crew would fight for him. Whether he lived or died, only over their dead bodies would Starfleet take Khan from them.

* * *

"Keptain," Chekov would chirp in his especially thick accent from the plexi cartographic plotting station. "Though we'd be doubling back quite a bit from Alpha Onias II, Triacus, one of the worlds in the Epsilon Indi system, I would suspect warrants surveying sir." Without saying anything initially, Kirk flashed an interested grin as he stood and made his way over to the curly-topped Russian and his trajectory projections. Fortunately for the Captain, the hypo therapy Bones had him undergoing was doing wonders for his particularly persistent blue-tinged rash. Presently he wasn't itching or swelling or otherwise wanting to skin himself alive, so it made focusing on Pavel much easier. "Sure Chekov. What about this planet warrants surveying?"

"Well sir," the young Russian explained, "it has been presented by the xenogeology department that Triacus is in possession of exceedingly rare occurrences of specific crystalized carbon structures." In response, Kirk was quiet for a moment wondering briefly if the considerably younger man had been put up to this. "Is that so?" He'd ask at last, but not for seeking further enlightenment. "Tell me Chekov, isn't Triacus the homeworld of the now extinct Triacus marauders? I'll admit that my lore of the planet is fleeting at best."

"Uh, yyyes sir."

"And what about the exoanthropology department? Surely they expressed interest in Triacus as well giving what history we know if it; there must be a compelling reason _why_ it's been suggested we go to a known planet already understood to be uninhabited." There was an amused if not an overly suspicious glint in Jim's eye, but he let on little more than that. "I would imagine so Keptain, but those department heads report to Commander Spock and would ideally have more information than myself."

"Yes, a Commander who is at present conspicuously absent. Pardon me for a second Chekov, " Jim would say as he pivoted with a smirk back to his chair, tapping one amongst several panels until the application he sought initiated. "Computer, what is the current location of Commander Spock?"

_"Commander Spock is located on deck nine in Life Sciences lab A."_

"…Interesting," the blonde mused to no one in particular. "Mister Sulu, you have the Conn." At once Hikaru's chair swiveled about to face Kirk who was already moving away from the command chair. "Aye sir," the helmsman briskly obliged, not sure why he was suddenly put in charge but taking the main seat just the same. A woman assumed Sulu's normal position in the meantime, keeping the voyaging Enterprise on a heading likely to change in the very near future.

* * *

Kirk was met with a plethora of respectful nods and acknowledgment of his rank as he passed through the corridors from the turbo lift to his intended destination. Upon entry of the Life Sciences lab, a blue clad female ensign walked past, her face buried in a file of some sort. As a result, she didn't see the Captain's blue eyes track her form, lingering on her figure for just a hair longer than needed for identification purposes. He had gotten better about his leer-in-passing in regards to the opposite sex…at least when it came to the hordes of attractive women who were stationed aboard his ship for the next half decade; drama was the last thing he needed so early on. Pulling eyes from the ensign's appreciable assets, Jim spotted his FO across the lab seated at a station, his attention on the specimen under a microscope. "Mister Spock," Jim announced casually, arms behind his back. Spock looked up at him. "Greetings Captain."

"Chekov proposed we pay a visit to Triacus on account of information provided by the xenogeology department. Mentioned something about 'exceedingly rare occurrences of specific crystalized carbon structures'. Given that you're our Science Officer, I figured you could shed a little light on why our _navigator_ seems more than ready to point us in Triacus' direction?" It was hard to miss the expression on Jim's face as he awaited a response from Spock, who at the moment only stared back with those clear brown eyes—mental wheels spinning.

"…"

"…"

"Did the Captain not give a direct order to present Lieutenant Uhura with an adequate ring of betrothal?" Just then the carefully placed grin Kirk sported bloomed to a full smile. "Before you confirm Captain," Spock continued, "it bears mentioning that I would be remiss for rousing interest in surveying Triacus solely for my subjective benefit. Though Triacus is a familiar and charted world, it has not the subject of intensive exploration. For that reason I spoke with both the xenogeology and exoanthropology departments to discuss scientifically relevant opportunities merited enough to expend energy on a potential assignment. There are several. In the end Captain, our visiting of Triacus satisfies the parameters of our five year mission as well as allowing myself to carry out the order my superior has issued, thus making the suggestion to explore Triacus a logical one."

"Ya'know Spock, going out in the universe to find the perfect bling for your fiancée's ring is pretty bad-ass. Heaven forbid if you two ever go your separate ways, that would be one hell of a dog act for some other poor bastard to follow. On another note though Spock, you could've just said, 'hey, let's go to this planet so I can get a big fat alien rock for my bride-to-be'. I would have totally understood." It was now Spock's turn to grin, suppressing the urge to malign his friend's political incorrectness and reiterate the reason for his indirectness. "Not only is it sound advice that I am following, but an order is an order," Spock promptly responded. "Cultivating the best option to fill this command, which also happens to be a personal endeavor, would be mutually propitious to all parties involved."

"Indeed Mister Spock, indeed." At once Jim reached for his communicator, flipping it up to open a channel to the bridge. "Mister Sulu."

"Aye Captain?"

"Have a course set for Triacus in the Epsilon Indi system, warp factor four."

"Yes sir!" The comm slapped closed. The heading was changed.

"Thank you Captain."

"Anytime Spock."

* * *

A/N: I hope you all liked it. As I said before, it took a lot longer than I anticipated, so I hope it came out alright. Let me know what you think as constructive criticism breeds better chapters. Also in addition to this chapter, I've made some very small edits to previous chapters (like grammar) including correcting some of the planets mentioned in this fic and also better researching mentioned Star Trek Universe locations while remaining reasonably faithful of ST continuity. Till next time. Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8: Prerequisite

A/N: Another lengthy gap between updates. Apologies, but a trip to Las Vegas slowed the process. At this time I'd like to point out that chapter 8 here probably isn't laced with drama, or at least as much as folks would probably want to come to see. I while I wouldn't call it filler, we are still on track for the real meat and potatoes of this fic. I remind all of my current readers and folks just stumbling on my little story that it is a 'slow grow', so we're gunna be here for the long haul. Thank you again for your continued interest as well as your critiques. I'd like to make a special shout out to the 'Guest' who pointed out how heavy handed I was on a particular word of choice. Sometimes you don't know you're doing it until someone points it out! Standard disclaimers, enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 8: Prerequisite

All throughout his academy days, there had always been an emphases on not judging a new world with the partiality one might have for their own home planet; it was a concept tied closely to the Prime Directive and one that Kirk did agree with. It did not, however, change the fact that in his mind Triacus was downright dreary. The sky was a dark navy blue even in daylight. The terrain was desert-like but the temperature comfortable enough—rocks and other such outcrops dominated the scenery. No wildlife had been encountered thus far and for the most part things appeared uneventful. In other words, perfect for a precious stone expedition. Back on the Enterprise and before coming to the planet's surface, Kirk had been just fine to let Spock lead his own away team with himself remaining onboard—Jim had no reason to go—but when the Science Officer requested his presence, how could he say no? Well, there was one reason, and presently that one reason had some weird whirling doohickey hovering over his temple. "Bones, seriously," Kirk admonished with genuine aggravation, a nerve somewhere struck by McCoy's over-cautiousness. "Pardon _me_ but I need to know you're not having any adverse reactions to the atmosphere here or to any particulates you might be breathing in. You do still have that rash after all and I'm just trying to make sure nothing horrific happens to you." Usually when Jim complained about things like this, Leonard was able to smart him back into place, but the tone Jim took this time around compelled the doctor to defend his actions in a more subdued manner than he would normally. "All things considered, I should just keep you on the ship until I know this thing of yours clears up—deep space exploration aside ." After this Bone's fell quiet, the sounds of his strange instrument soon the only thing between them. Kirk made a face. "Alright I'm sorry, but just…could you not chase after me with those damn contraptions all the time? You make me nervous!"

While James was bending to the will of his CMO, elsewhere, Spock had his tricorder out searching for what he was hoping to find. On the ship, he had managed to locate a mineral vein that ideally possessed what he had convinced Jim to come Triacus for. Though his scans from the Enterprise could get him close to the underground vein, being directly on the surface was always much better when came to triangulating location. As it was, twenty meters away from his current position, Spock's tricorder detected a definite spike similar to previous readouts back in orbit. Signaling to the geologists, Spock and a small security detail moved toward the spike. Upon reaching their destination, the group of six would come across a natural hole in the ground about five meters wide. One of the geologists shone a light into the hole's mouth, illuminating not much of anything. "No life signs detected," Spock informed as he crouched down, peering inside. "Commander, allow me," one of the security officers offered. Spock looked to him and nodded before stepping back, the man setting himself down in the dirt and scooting inward. The security officer hit bottom about six feet down, the loose earth moving unsteadily beneath his boots. "Well sir," the officer began, shining his own light at his feet before looking up at those gathered above. "Nothing to see h-! The redshirt was promptly cut off when his face was swallowed up by the dark hole he had entered. The entire team was notably startled by the sudden disappearance of their comrade, gasps and involuntary jerks tweaking their limbs. Spock of course remained the most composed, but his alarm was certainly no less. "Baker!" One of the security officers barked even as he clamored into the hole after the other man. "No, descending into the tunnel's mouth without knowing its depth beforehand could prove fatal," Spock would interdict sharply, stopping the other officer before he likely plunged to an early demise. There was a swift intake of breath from the stalled officer as the Commander's logic finally caught up with the man; he barely had time to acknowledge his superior before Spock had produced vial information. "The drop from here to hard surface within the tunnel is approximately 5.3 meters, too far for any of you to free-fall without risking undue injury to yourselves. I have detected a single life sign in the subterranean area below us presumably to be Officer Baker. I will go down after him," Spock dutifully informed, turning brown eyes away from the hole to the officer whom he had stopped. "Please notify Doctor McCoy of the incident as that Officer Baker might have sustained injuries."

"Aye sir," the other officer nodded before leaving to find the Doctor. The third member of the detail watched as the Commander disappeared into the hole, making sure that the two geologists didn't stray too close. Meanwhile Spock, he fell for just under three seconds in total darkness before his own feet found mostly hard rock before swiftly tumbling forward with barely slowed momentum. Ricocheting against unyielding and far from smooth surfaces for many more seconds than the initial free fall, Spock finally felt himself slam to a halt as he came to rest face first on more uneven ground. The Vulcan winced a bit as he pushed himself up onto his knees, for the time being ignoring the pain in his own body to reach for the flashlight he hoped wasn't damaged in the fall. Spock hadn't even begun to retrieve the device when he realized he had no need for it. All around in the cavernous space the FO had tumbled into, the rock and earthen walls emitted their own soft glow. The light itself was not overly bright, but given the expansiveness of the area, it was more than enough light to see without the use of his flashlight.

"Commander," a haggard voice called to Spock's left. It was Baker, and as expected, he appeared worse for the wear. "I'm pretty sure my leg is broken," the man surmised ruefully as Spock drew closer and knelt beside him, noting the blood that stained the side of Baker's face. "Not to worry," the Vulcan assured reaching for his communicator which was already beeping even as he prepared to utilize it. Roughly fifteen minutes after Spock had followed Baker down the hole, the cavern was populated by medical personnel as well as members of the original away team. "Hold still Mister Spock," McCoy directed as he passed a scanner over the Vulcan's head and torso, "you Vulcans may be a hardier bunch but you bleed just like the rest of us if you get banged up enough." Spock opted not to comment. His soreness was already abating and what skin had been broken only amounted to simple abrasions, though admittedly those abrasions were rather numerous. Once satisfied that the Enterprise's First Officer would not spontaneously combust, McCoy moved to oversee the transport of the broken-legged security officer. Spock however would not be alone for long as that Jim had quickly replaced the departed Bones.

"So," Kirk began, his eyes glued to the luminous rock that surrounded them all. "Why is it glowing?"

"I am uncertain Captain; it is a property I am attempting to isolate and identify as we speak," Spock responded, his eyes fastened on his tricorder's readouts. "Initially I suspected the emitted light to be bio-luminescent in nature, but I do not detect any organic signatures in the surrounding bedrock. Though currently it is only an assumption based on limited data, I am willing to postulate that the molecular makeup of the indigenous rock is the agent responsible for its luminosity."

"Glow-in-the-dark rocks?" Jim paraphrased with a grin.

"It seems so."

"…You know that would be totally _awesome_ right?" It was a question framed more as a statement.

"If I am to assume correctly your pattern of thinking Captain, this self-luminescent rock would indeed make a unique setting for Lieutenant Uhura's ring."

"Bingo, instant brownie points."

Spock allowed himself a thin smile. "Provided the rock does not possess any adverse properties as a result of its glow…"

"Agreed. I don't think Uhura would appreciate potential radiation poisoning as an engagement gift."

"I emphatically concur."

"I'll help you pick out a nice one."

* * *

Gauze bandages, tissue sealants, antibiotics, disinfectants, splints, creams, ointments and a few pain-killers; the full extent of medical dress in addition to the simple tools that came in a standard aid kit. Fine for scrapes and cuts, but woefully ineffective when placed against the types of injures presented to the small kit. It though was much better than nothing and Aakar worked swiftly with what few but helpful materials the small craft provided. It was terribly cramped with the lot of them all but shoe-horned in there. The shuttle was easily meant to accommodate four comfortably. Six was pushing it. Nine was utterly burdensome, really far too much…especially when one of those nine had a hole the size of a silver half-dollar burned into his lung. It couldn't be helped though. The fact that they had even made it this far was an act of Providence, Khan's careful planning notwithstanding. No doubt now the hunt was on…near and far eyes would be trained to ground and sky for anything that appeared even minutely out of the ordinary.

Unfortunately none of Khan's fugitive crew could truly take the time to appreciate the extent of their leader's elaborate escape plan—little did they know how much Khan had learned from the mistakes made more than a year before. He had strategized differently. Obviously there had been problems given the narrowed margin for success, but the results, serendipitous as they were, could not be denied. Though the crew would not be able to understand at that moment the technology at work, Khan had jerry-rigged, smuggled, and constructed (albeit a small one) a full-scale transporter pad in the near-forgotten bowels of the sewer systems beneath the San Francisco Presidio. With the help of the intuitive program the Augment cornerstone had written should he be rendered less than able to perform the tasks himself, Lilith managed to beam the lot of them to the pre-loaded coordinates Khan had specified…ones that placed them on nearby Angel Island only a stone's throw from the Presidio and Horseshoe Bay respectively. Starfleet no doubt was not so cunning to think any of the escapees opted to remain so close to their headquarters knowing Khan was capable of putting up so much more distance in a hurry. Angel Island was a staging point. Or rather, it was _meant_ to be a staging point. He would have been able to amass all the tools and equipment he needed while giving his people silent refuge until they were fully prepared to leave Earth behind once and for all. Those ambitions however were cut far too short. Instead of seventy-three, there were only nine. Oh what could have been had they not been discovered.

The clothing fit perfectly, the ones Khan had preemptively procured for them; plain and functional in their utility. Though there was no burning need to cover with non-protective gear, it was most welcomed that the group no longer had to run about in only their undergarments. For the moment at least they were afforded some reprieve, yet Khan was restless. Discomfort, as a word, was an understatement to describe what he was feeling. The carefully applied tissue sealant was doing as intended, but was very much so a workaround in lieu of proper treatment. With each new breath coming slightly easier, bronchial tubes were still agitated by the unnatural elements polluting the air in Khan's sturdy but damaged lungs. He coughed and it was more than painful. With a tightlipped grimace, Khan indicated to Aakar with a cant of his head a morphine hypo. A small click and hiss later, the man was sitting up much to Aakar's chagrin. "I implore you not to tax yourself sir, the dressings are flimsy at best," Aakar advised, though his words likely fell on deaf ears. Already on his feet, the crew of the small commandeered shuttle worked with great effort to give their leader as much room as possible as he made his way to the helm. Seated, he began to run system checks, plot courses and key in vectors all while his fellow Augments looked on in silence. "Khan, is there anything you wish us to do?" It was Lilith, hoping to break the spell of uselessness that suddenly fell upon those freshly risen from cryo-sleep. "No," came the clipped and terse reply. While fine to elaborate, the just-sealed hole in his lung and torso barred Khan from lengthy explanations. For now he was focused…there was something of a schedule to be kept. A particular group of cargo ships were due to fly vectors passing right over the dense wooded isle in less than an hour's time. After reviewing a plethora of data streaming in over monitors, Khan found that the soon-to-arrive cargo vessels were as ideal as expected to hide amongst, critical for camouflaging their assent into space. He had to do this right the first time—the next set of cargo vessels wouldn't fly those same vectors for another week, and with Starfleet on high alert, Khan didn't have one hundred and sixty-eight extra hours to spare.

* * *

No one spoke. Frequencies and signatures were both scrambled and subdued so that the shuttle's footprints would not be detected. They were running silent and hiding in what was easily plain sight. The largest of the cargo vessels was large enough to hide the stolen craft as it rose through the Earth's atmosphere, on course for Starbase 1. Khan made careful course corrections, continually making sure they remained out of view of every port window not their own as they glided along toward the giant space dock. Once the shuttle was close enough to the dock, Khan maneuvered the vessel downward, keeping dangerously close to the thermal tiles that comprised the underside of the space dock's hull—the action allowing it to slip unbidden from the rest of the formation. So much as a scrape would alert the entire base to their presence, a situation he refused to place his people in a second time. After two minutes, Khan slowed the shuttle, speaking quietly and only as much as he could manage. "…I have aligned our vessel with a seldom used static port. This will be our only way onto Starbase 1 that does not immediately betray our presence. There is a Hermes-class scout ship due for maintenance and should already be docked," Khan explained. "It will be sparsely manned. We will take that vessel and flee."

The others murmured their understanding as they watched Khan ease from the helm. His pain to them was obvious, but they were more than sure he had swallowed enough of his pride. He was walking and speaking a little more than an hour after having his torso perforated by an energy weapon, an impressive feat even for Augment standards. It was why he was their _best_. Gathering up what supplies Khan had prepared for the shuttle, the airlock opened and a hacker's intelligence gained the crew an entire space dock. Rather than the whole Starbase 1, a small ship—the USS Finch—was the intended goal. If things continued without issue, within the hour they would be well on their way.

* * *

A/N: Additional tweaks to earlier chapters are ongoing. Incidentally I've already started work on chapter 9, but there is no telling when it will be finished and ready for posting. But at least you know that it is in the pipeline. As usual constructive criticism breeds better chapters. Thank you all so much for sticking around! Till next time.


	9. Chapter 9: Mellifluous Glow

A/N: So I've encountered my first 'crisis of faith' with this fic, perfectly aware that for the most part it doesn't feature the most popular parings in trekkie fictdom. And it gets pretty hard when you inevitably start comparing your work to some of the other fics out there and realize that you suck harder than you originally thought (please read Redemption by Ithiel Dragon and see what I'm talking about, trust me on this). Nevertheless I press forward! My goal is to finish this thing, and boy do we have a long way to go. Usual disclamer.

* * *

Chapter 9: Mellifluous Glow

Spock kept a respectable distance from his gemologist as the older woman deliberately worked the laser cutting into the softly glowing stone. The rock recovered from Tricaus proved to have amendable properties besides the benign light it cast. It responded extremely well to laser treatment, and what was more, when grinded it put off nearly no dust, thus retaining much of its weight which was surprisingly slight to begin with. It also surpassed the tensile strength of diamond (something Starfleet would appreciate) while mimicking a diamond's reflective brilliance when skillfully cut. While the rock's illumination lessened somewhat when removed from the rough, the loss of its luminosity was easily countered by its utterly flawless transparency. The blue hue almost shimmered when placed against white light, giving the appearance of water when sunlight struck its surface—never losing its remaining glow, fire, or clarity. Spock was most pleased.

The gemologist submerged and cleaned the stone so any debris that clung to it fell away. Pinching the meticulously fashioned rock between a pair of delicate tweezers, the woman examined it once more through her magnifying spectacles before finally pulling them and the gemstone away from her face. "Commander, this by far is the most remarkable specimen I've ever worked on. Forgive my forwardness sir, but it's going to absolutely take someone's breath away." While the gemologist did not know Lieutenant Uhura was the stone's intended recipient, she had been informed by her commanding officer his intentions for the crafted ornament. It was terribly romantic. A married woman herself, the gemologist knew a showstopper when she saw one; the cut gemstone on this ring was the very first of its kind…and at least for the next few years, the only.

"Thank you Misses Boyd," Spock replied curtly as he leaned in with a demure handheld magnifier of his own. It truly was a perfect gem and Nyota would surely be delighted. "Outstanding work," the Vulcan complimented appraisingly. "Thank you very much sir. I can have the stone set within the hour."

"Very good, I shall return again in that time." With that, the woman set back to her task, a small grin on her face all while she prepared to incase the fabulous jewel within its new home.

* * *

"Oh my _gawd_…" It was all Kirk could manage while gawking at the gem-crowned platinum band destined for the ship's Communication Officer. "Spock…Spock holy crap this thing is _unbelievable_." In turn, a smile threatened to stake claim on the FO's face. "Judging by the related reactions by all who have seen the final product, I am led to believe this ring will be a suitable show of Lieutenant Uhura's and my betrothal."

"You bet your pointy-eared ass!" Kirk exclaimed, drawing a raised brow from Spock.

"An interesting confirmation."

The Captain was all grins. "Man Spock," Jim would continue, though in much softer tones. "I'm really happy for you buddy. You're better than me, that's for sure."

Kirk's second in command nodded in response. "If I might query Jim, is it very difficult for you to commit yourself to a single potential significant other?"

James blinked. It was a completely innocent question that passed from the Vulcan, earning a sigh from the Human. Honestly Kirk couldn't blame Spock for being at least a _little_ curious; his reputation as an interspecies womanizer (exaggerated as it was) was hardly a secret. Or…maybe it just could have been a mostly human thing? Bones would have understood. But then again, he was still a little sour on the fiscally devastating (not to mention emotionally damaging) fallout of his divorce—so maybe he wouldn't have. "Well, uh," Jim began, smiling a bit, but not for amusement. "How would you put it Spock…its logical to cultivate multiple options?"

"Simultaneously?"

Jim snorted. "Ah, er, probably not—or at least it tends not to end well when 'cultivating multiple options' in respect to the fairer sex; speaking of us Earthlings of course. How Vulcans do, I can't really say."

Spock pondered the response. "Then why continue to do so when the actions of such more often than not yield unfavorable results?" Here, Jim groaned as he let his head fall backwards before facing his friend again. "Hey, hey easy. I'm getting better," he added in his defense. "But I really wouldn't consider myself ready for 'commitment' at this point in my life. And if I am, its clearly news to me and I haven't found my stride yet, not that I'm actually looking for it." Of course Spock was instantly quizzical behind the comment. "A fascinating assessment Jim, as that I did not require intimacy with multiple partners before I considered Lieutenant Uhura a long-term compatible fit."

"Yeah well, that's because you're a damn lucky bastard. Now let's quit talking about _me_ and talk about when you're gunna hand over that insanely beautiful ring to your bride-to-be," Kirk said staunchly, grateful for the opportunity to steer the conversation away from his functionality in relationships, or lack thereof.

"I considered this evening as good a time as any. Should I otherwise wait?" Jim shook his head adamantly. "No way, don't wait if you don't have to. Or better that, do it when you feel it's the right time." Even as he said it, Jim wondered how well this very human idiom would go over with Spock. As expected, the Vulcan's brow creased ever so slightly, but raised no questions. "I see. I suppose the opportune moment will present itself in due time."

"It usually does," Jim assured, as if he were the premiere authority on the matter. "Just don't hold onto it for too long—whatever you do, you don't want Uhura thinking you got cold feet."

* * *

Maintenance chutes, breezeways and other out-of-the-way passages were the routes of choice as Khan and his followers moved toward the unsuspecting Finch. It was amazing what one could achieve given the right knowledge, or more, the knowledge to access the information sought. While eight of the nine Augments were generally unaware, they were quickly learning that the people of this time didn't take security as seriously as they should have; the ease of which they were able to steal vessels and infiltrate orbital stations was simply ludicrous. Nevertheless, as they arrived closer to where the USS Finch was docked, it was becoming more of a requirement to crawl about on hands and knees and wedge into tight spaces. While Khan was loathed to admit it, he was certainly struggling. The effects of the narcotic pain-killer Aakar had administered was already wearing off; a side-effect of an Augment's biologic resilience—dampening the good with the bad, especially when it came to intravenous medications. His injured leg was in no condition to be dragged over metal grates or propel him up long narrow ladders, which said nothing for his lung and the stresses he was putting upon it. Despite the urgency of the situation, more than once did Khan find himself pausing to catch a burning breath, courtesy of his compromised respiratory system. In the grand scheme of things however, those wounds were trivial. He was quite capable of surviving at this point and if things continued to go as well as they had been, he'd have more than enough time to recuperate.

At long last the fugitive group came as far as the could keeping to the metallic shadows that were the hidden walls of Starbase 1. A cursory glance at his data P.A.D.D. told Khan they were exactly where they needed to be…Maintenance Hanger Three-Charlie-Bravo. He ran a scan. "There-" Khan began but faltered, a mix of stolen breath and sharp discomfort being the culprit. Pressing his lips into a tight line, he forced the searing outline of their objective. "There is a fresh air vent below this platform whose opening stands fifteen feet from the Finch. One of us shall go and scout, taking note of who is where. I show ten individuals present in the hangar—that could account for inside the ship as well."

"Khan, allow me," Lilith volunteered.

"No. Roe. He's faster," Khan swiftly countered, and though neither of them let it show, a sense of smugness and displeasure filled the two subordinates respectively. "Yes Khan," Roe acknowledged as he stepped past all of them and lowered himself to the specified vent beneath. Crouching, the platinum Augment peered through the vent's slats. Machinery moved smoothly and efficiently about. Nearby, a man with a data tablet stood surveying the scene. There were a few idle shouts here and there as the maintenance crew relayed information to one another. A set of air-stairs stood deployed, marking the most obvious opening into the craft—a woman walking into the Finch. As near as Roe could tell, there were two more individuals on the far side of the ship and another moving other machinery much deeper into the hangar, suggesting that the rest of the enumerated crew was inside. Examining the vent cover itself, Roe pinched the slats to see how easily the thing would move. Apparently very given that he only applied minimum force before the cover slid outward ever-so-slightly. It didn't even make a sound. Immediately next to the vent was a large square container—something that would provide the perfect cover. Sliding the vent out completely, Roe set it to one side to begin his reconnaissance. Nothing and no one needed to tell the super-human that staying out of sight was imperative, and the man intended to do just that.

Dodging the crew in the hangar itself was a simple task…they were all too absorbed in their work to take note of their surroundings. Ascending the Finch's stairs quickly, Roe found a corner to duck into—satisfied to sit and listen for voices and movement inside the vessel. There was a conversation about someone's recent sexual exploits, and another about a new outfit at some clothier. Mindless banter, but a few seconds more spent listening revealed exactly what was left in the checklist for the Finch. An actuator was scheduled for replacement and it seemed the part was already on board. Some sensors were due for recalibrating and the ship's interior needed to be cleaned…that was it. Time to leave. As it was though, it was far easier to slip _onto_ a vessel than it was to slip off of it, Roe at that moment didn't have the advantage of knowing exactly where the people on the outside were. Fortunately, the personnel onboard were far enough from Roe's position to allow enough time to garner just a peek outside to gauge the terrain. No one around, no need to sneak, simply bolt for the vent. In and out. Back with the others in only seconds, Roe gave his report. The news was promising and Khan had little difficulty, metaphorically speaking, in doling out orders. It was now time for Lilith and Kaida to act, feigning ignorance for getting lost when they approached the crew in the greater hangar. Those individuals were quickly dispatched, bodies stuffed in a corner.

Within the Finch, slightly different tactics were employed, but the results were the same. The remaining maintenance workers had been quietly subdued, most killed but some spared—they'd be the ones to help lubricate the Augments' escape from Starbase 1. Within moments the most senior among the captives had been found, and it was under threat of death that the person authorized an early 'test run' of the Finch, allowing it to be given official clearance away from the dock. The ship would be on the far side of Luna before it jumped to warp, its trajectory placing the craft well beyond Mars. Once the surviving Starfleet personnel had reached the end of their usefulness, they like their colleagues back at the dock, found themselves for the afterlife, save one. _He_ was brought directly before Khan. Thrown to the floor of the ship's small mess hall, a thin reedy man not out of his thirties sat on his haunches, practically sniveling in his most hopeless situation. Cold blue eyes staring unblinkingly at his captive, Khan sat perfectly still in a lightly cushioned chair while several of his crew stood looking on.

"You. You stated before that you worked maintenance upon the USS Enterprise before its departure from the sector. Where is Starfleet's flagship now?"

The man had already broken into a cold sweat, his head jerking about to the strange people surrounding him before his own eyes fell back on the stolid figure who questioned him. "I don't know, I don't know! I _swear_ I don't know," the frightened officer stammered. "It's on a five year deep-space mission—it could be anywhere!" The narrowing of Khan's eyes at this was almost imperceptible.

"The Finch. It is in perfect working order?"

The man's voice hitched. "Y-yes. You made us finish all the work before you _killed_ everyone!"

"…Then it would seem our time here is done." Khan coolly replied. As a result, if the interrogated man's eyes could grow any wider as panic beset him, they did. "W-wait, what does that mean? **Oh God**, God please don't _kill_ me! Please, please it's not worth it! Who am I gunna tell about this?" Even as he pleaded, he was taken up by the arms, Sven's grip upon him unbreakable. "Wait, wait please! I've got a family! Just let me go!" The man was drug from the room. Khan didn't respond.

All the way down the Finch's halls the maintenance man continued to parley for his life, though the farther they moved, the more aware he became that his ridiculously large and ridiculously strong steward was not going to listen. A door was opened and the Starfleet officer was tossed roughly inside, his fall broken only by the heaped and lifeless bodies of his murdered coworkers. "Sorry friend. You know what they say about loose ends." Sven closed the door back as the man's cries erupted into desperate shrieking, realizing too well he was now in the Finch's garbage hatch. The small ship would not shutter as the bodies of the dead, and one still live man, jettisoned into space; it was a known fact that death in a vacuum was not instantaneous. There would still be several seconds of acute awareness before the harsh environment of space finally took its toll. It was, ideally, enough time for that lone man to make his peace before darkness finally claimed him—perhaps he used it wisely.

* * *

Spock wasn't good at these types of things. Though he and Nyota had been together for nearly two years, the pair seldom _dated_. Between Nyota's then wealth of classes and Spock's interim as faculty, the most the two could ever manage in public were a few philosophical and occasionally intimate conversations over light dinner. The rest had come behind closed doors. Well aware that James was not a viable candidate to elicit advice from on the matter, Spock considered asking the once married Doctor McCoy on how best to present Nyota her ring. After considering however the Doctor's turbulent marital history-one that resulted in the inequitable termination of his marriage-Spock thought better of it. And while he could easily ask the other senior officers he had become familiar with their views on the matter, he simply did not wish to. That so, it appeared he was on his own. At last, the Vulcan abandoned any elaborate tone setting for the presentation; in his mind the effort was illogical seeing as Uhura already accepted his original proposal. The only thing left was to offer the dowry.

When Spock arrived in Uhura's quarters, she was as he expected to find her, in loose-fit personal clothing and curled in a chair with a data pad. Her music of choice played softly in the background, mellow and unhurried. She smiled warmly at him in greeting. "Hey you."

"Good evening Nyota."

Silence transpired—one that almost could have been awkward if Uhura hadn't set her tablet down and approached the Vulcan still standing near her door. "You know," she'd say, closing the remaining distance with a kiss, "you _can_ make yourself comfortable…I don't bite…much." Spock embraced her in response, offering second kiss that lasted much longer than the first, breaking it only to speak. "I have something I'd like to give you."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" Nyota was grinning, arms encircling Spock's neck. While her lover was hardly one for innuendo, it always did a little something for her libido to think that he was…when the opportunity presented itself. To her surprise or even slight confusion, Spock pulled away, leaving her to watch as he fished a small dark container off his person. Eyes transfixed, Nyota stared most intently as Spock's long fingers lifted the container's lid. What she found made her jaw drop.

"Nyota," Spock began softly, "for you. A ring to show my commitment; an avowal to inform all who look upon you that you are spoken for." Nyota not for the first time, was struck speechless, brown eyes fluttering madly as the gravity of Spock's words hit home. The small box returning to a pocket, Spock took Nyota's left hand and gingerly placed the carefully crafted ring upon her fourth finger, the center jewel's glow catching in the woman's dark irises.

"Oh…oh my god Spock…" She uttered, her lip trembling slightly. Those same glassy eyes would finally drag from the ring the Vulcan placed on her finger to find him smiling most affectionately. Gasping somewhat, Nyota threw her arms back around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. Spock's large hands caressed his fiancé's back as they remained in the middle of her quarters, several moments passing before Nyota pulled away to hold her lover's face, kissing it repeatedly. "You approve of the ring then?" Spock murmured quietly. Here the human woman appeared almost stunned before smiling most emphatically. "Spock, I…of course I do! Its," she brought her hand closer to inspect it. "This is…oh my God this is the most indescribably beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on in my entire _life_." Her gaze flicked back up to meet his. "And," Nyota managed, "…it came from you. That makes it irreplaceable."

The Vulcan's mouth curled into another smile. "Then I am wholly satisfied."

For once, the soft sounds of Spock's deeper sleep filled the air before Nyota's. He lay there beside her pressed into the sheets he had come as close as a Vulcan ever did to teasing her about. She on the other hand was all but consumed by the jewel on her finger…and what it meant. It was one thing to have someone ask for your hand in marriage, it was quite something else to have physical proof of the commitment, and it be so utterly peerless. Finally she shifted, facing Spock and taking in the sight of his smooth tranquil features. Too many things rushed through her mind suddenly at that moment, most of it good, some of it wonderful and at last, things that she'd rather not dwell on. In all, the one laying there in her bed was the one she was going to spend the rest of her life with.

A pang shook her.

At once Nyota realized that the one she could have most related to in life as a human woman wed to a Vulcan, had been killed in an act of genocide so unfathomable it was now legendary. She bit her lip at the sobering thought. She hadn't met Spock's mother Amanda…now she never would, but lord what she would have given for the woman's invaluable insight. Nyota was hard press to imagine the amount of emotional strength Amanda had to possess for not only living among Vulcans being married to one, but for raising a Vulcan son as well. The idea was staggering, and it leant Nyota the reflection of if she too would be as Spock's mother was one day.

With a soft sigh she pushed all these larger than life contemplations from her mind…abandoned for placing a hand lightly against Spock's cheek. Nyota closed her eyes. _'One thing a time'_, she told herself. They _did_ have to make it to the wedding first, after all. The planning could even start tomorrow. _'I love you Spock,'_ she whispered silently to him. Who knew...maybe she wouldn't be able to sleep at all tonight. How could she when all she could think of was what every little moment of the future held? So _this_ was what it was like to be a bride.

Humph. Nerve-racking.

* * *

A/N: Given that I know this fic will have a great many more chapters, I'm making an effort to make the updates longer which in turn might create longer gaps between new chapters. I'll try not to have that happen too often though. To those who are still reading, thank you so much! Reviews are encouraged as they make me feel like I'm not boring people to absolute tears. Till next time!


	10. Chapter 10: Advice

A/N: Hello all! I cooked this one up a little faster than the last few chapters, so I'm glad about that. Honestly I'm eager to push on to Chapter 11, but I do have other things to work on, but well see what happens. Dialog ahead! Usual disclaimer. I own nothing but the folks I dreamed up!

* * *

Chapter 10: Advice

The Finch was under stocked. Given the scout ship was scheduled out of service temporarily, there was no need to have its stores filled for extended missions. What that meant was no potable water, no food slot cards and more immediately, reduced medical supplies. As he surveyed the dismal scene, Aakar did not need to wonder long on why Khan had selected him over so many others to be revived. Of the original eighty-four, he was as close to a full-fledged physician as any of them had been. While he did not have standard medical training, he had taken enough courses to be rendered competent with stitches and regular needle syringes. But that was centuries ago. All these new things, in this new time…how was he supposed to master these 'modern' tools when he was introduced to his first hypo-syringe mere hours ago? The middle-eastern man sighed. Regardless of how competent he was or wasn't in his skillset, he was expected to play doctor and be damn successful. Lucky for them they healed fast.

"Kahn."

Aakar had sought his leader, whom he found sitting at the Finch's helm, staring at the star-spackled view-screen. Though Kahn did not turn to face Aakar, the man tilted his head only enough to show the other Augment had his attention. "Forgive the unpleasant nature of my briefing, but we have very little in the way of provisions—and that does include infirmary stores. The majority of our medical supplies are located within the six emergency kits throughout the Finch. And…we have no food, or at least, not any that I can see."

Khan remained silent.

Brow furrowing, Aakar hesitated in speaking further, but as the seconds wore on with no response, he found himself questioning the extended silence. "…Sir?"

"And is this a _problem_ Aakar?" Khan's voice came low, but subdued still, no doubt a consequence of his bodily damage that had improved only slightly since the shuttle from Earth.

"Well," Aakar ventured, not entirely sure what to make of Khan's reply. "I'd like to say no, but sir, our people are not fully healed and you, you have been seriously injured Khan…"

"Your observation is noted, but I assure you I will be fine."

"…Khan, I must insist-"

"Will that be all Aakar?" The senior of the two queried dismissively, wondering if Aakar really dared to continue.

"No, Khan," the other man relented before turning to leave. Nearly off the ship's small bridge, Aakar would offer a comment while departing. "My concern sir is for your wellbeing…we need you." And then he was gone, doors sliding open and shutting quietly behind him. Alone once more, Khan's blue-grey eyes fell upon the various instruments and readouts that indicated course and location, but not destination. The pain in his chest was immense and Aakar's report, as necessary as it was, did nothing to lift Khan's befouled mood. The discomfort he could deal with, he was no stranger to it, but the idea of the lot of them starving to death was a daunting one. Not that he'd let such a thing happen. They had all come too far to be felled by such minor setbacks. While it would have been nothing to raid a simple outpost for everything they needed, Khan was much too aware that every Starfleet and greater Federation presence in Sol's system was likely on to them and searching. That so, the reality only left for two options, storm an outpost right away and tempt the unlikelihood of not running into trouble, or leave the system altogether and hope for the best somewhere else. While the preferred choice seemed obvious, they could only get so far without any damn water.

But that was not Khan's only worry.

For the longest, the chief Augment's primary concern was the safe recovery of his crew. He had gone through so much and paid more than his share only to have his best intentions thwarted almost completely…_repeatedly_. Yes he had to plan for the next step, scheme to stay ahead of his enemies, but when would he finally have the time to mourn his situation properly? Though Khan Noonien Singh seldom fell victim to bouts of self-pity, it was not in his nature, Aakar's departing words were like an albatross about his neck. It was often too easy for Kahn to lose himself in the need to lead his people, now and as in the days of his near imperial reign-blind nearly to all else. Their welfare was and had always been his responsibility—and in so, it escaped him at times that his people felt they had a responsibility to _him_. And not just for following his orders. Indeed, what good would he be to them dead or otherwise indisposed? Arrogance aside, they truly did _need_ him. There, in the vastness of space and in a vessel advanced beyond their immediate comprehension, for his people to lose him now could spell certain doom for the ones he knew he could still save.

Khan moved a hand to the wound on his chest, grimacing hard at the fire of his touch. No doubt he had aggravated the worst of his injuries and the news of sparse medical supplies was not encouraging. He was torn. Did he risk the health of his followers further by attempting a raid, or did he just get the hell out of Sol and cross his fucking fingers? No, no he couldn't do that. There were three overall goals threading through his sharp mind; recover the rest of his Augments, find a new home where they could thrive in peace, and exact final vengeance on the Enterprise…and not necessarily in that order. None of it could be done if they died of thirst or starvation before finding other viable resources. At once Khan began to scan for low-manpowered posts. One of the pluses of hijacking a scout ship was that everything was optimized for _investigation_. If they were going to steal a proper battery of items for nine, the Finch certainly was their best option for success.

* * *

The squeals of the two women could be heard up and down the hall as they loped out of the science labs toward the turbolift. "Oh my gosh, this ring of yours is positively exquisite! You are sooo lucky!" Carol gushed as the turbolift doors hissed closed before them. "I told you he'd get you a ring…and to think you were doubtful!" The blonde grinned widely.

"I was not!"

"You were so!"

"Ah, either way, this is insane!" Uhura exclaimed, gesticulating excitedly. "I'm comming my mother tonight so she can get a load of this thing, she'd not gunna believe it!"

Zipping into the mess hall, Uhura elected to treat herself to a thick slice of tiramisu while Carol indulged in a triple chocolate milkshake complete with cherry and whipped cream. Slipping into a corner booth, the two women continued their spritely conversation. "So how'd he do it?" Carol questioned eagerly. "Did he get down on a knee, or did he serenade you? Come on girl, tell it all!"

Uhura launched a beaming smile and giggled as she waved the other woman off. "Please, I might've died if he had! No, none of that, but he was super sweet. He held me close and said the ring was an avowal to show everyone that I was spoken for," Uhura recounted in a comically dramatic voice, hugging her arms as she did so.

"Oh really? Spoken for he said?"

"Yes ma'am he did!"

"Oh my, my, all these blokes better watch out now, hard as it'll be…you are a stunning thing you know."

Uhura couldn't help but blush behind the comment. "Well, do try to look my best, but this ring is like magic guy repellant. You can see it from a mile away I swear."

"Let me see it closer," Carol urged reaching for Uhura's hand. Taking the woman's slender digits into her own, Carol inspected the gemstone further.

"Good gracious, is it actually glowing?"

"Yes! Isn't it insane?"

"Well I'll be damned…it looks like a diamond you know."

"Yeah, that's what I thought too when I first saw it, but of course when it started shining its own light…"

Carol released Uhura's hand and folded her arms over, a playful sneer on her face. "I'm totally jealous Miss Uhura. I just wanted you to know that. You're smart and gorgeous, you have a catch of a Vulcan and a rock that's going to go down in history. I tell you Uhura, you're going to be the envy of this whole bloody ship!" Of course these exclamations of Carol only made Nyota blush harder.

"Oh stop it! I'm supposed to be modest you know?"

"Bullocks! Someone's got to toot your horn, so it might as well be me," Carol informed with a heavy degree of pride.

"Alright Carol, have it your way."

"I will thank you!" The woman added with a grin before sipping on her shake. "So, what are you going to do? Please tell me you have a date now."

"Nope. Hadn't gotten that far."

The blonde's face fell. "Well, alright, if no date, do you at least know where you want to get married at?"

"Eh, I don't know," Uhura shrugged absentmindedly. "I would have wanted Earth, but it's entirely possible that he might want to have a ceremony on New Vulcan. Or depending, we could just end up doing it here on the ship. Like I said, I really didn't want to wait five whole years to do this…so I'm thinking it'll just be on the Enterprise…"

"Or maybe some exotic planet?" Carol offered.

"Maybe."

"Okay, so, what about kids?"

"Geez Carol, can we get to the wedding first before you shove me down the aisle eight months pregnant?"

"But you'd make a beautiful mommy bride!"

"Ha! No."

"Fine. But you are going to have children right?"

"Gosh I don't know. Probably?"

"I'm sure you will, but let's talk about your dress, are you thinking something more traditional, or contemporary?"

"Oh my god Carol, I don't _know!_"

"Well you had better figure it out missy! If you say you aren't going to wait five years, these are things you're going to have to consider! Is it going to be small and intimate, or is it going to be a giant party? Bridesmaids, cakes, flower arrangements, location, your hair, the _dress_…all these things go into planning a wedding m'dear. It's a lot yes but don't worry, Carol Marcus, Wedding Planner Extraordinaire, is at your service!"

"…my hero."

* * *

"So, how did it go?"

"I trust you are referring to the presentation of Lieutenant Uhura's ring?"

"Yeah, what else could I be talking about?"

At once Spock sucked in a bit of breath to respond, but Kirk already had his hand up to stop him. "No, don't answer that."

Somewhat confused, the Vulcan appeared as though he did not know how to continue, finally settling on answering his friend's initial question. "It went very well. Nyota seemed most happy."

"Awesome," Kirk grinned. "So, did you guys discuss any plans for a possible ceremony?"

"No. I at present am not sure what Nyota would like to do. She has not indicated to me if she wished to have a human ceremony or a Vulcan one…at this point though, I am inclined to leave the decision up to her."

Jim nodded. "That's probably a good idea, cause nine times outta ten, she's probably gunna call all the shots anyway. It'll make things easier on you in the long run anyhow. My recommendation? Just nod and go along with whatever she says, it'll save a lot of headache. Trust me on this Spock, women transform into strange and frightening creatures once they get into wedding mode. I've seen it…and it ain't pretty."

To this Spock gave over an almost baffled expression. "I am not sure I understand…"

"And you probably never will, but that's okay because no man in this universe is going to hold that against you. Talk to Bones. Yeah he might have gotten a divorce, but he has been a groom at least once in his life, so maybe he can give you some pointers."

"Do you believe that the Doctor would be willing to recount his wedding preparations given that his marriage ultimately ended in failure?"

"Good grief Spock," Jim admonished, "first off, you won't know until you ask. Second, whatever you do, don't bring up the whole failed marriage bit when you talk to him! You want him to give you advice, not turn you off from getting hitched when he starts bemoaning that awful backstory of his."

"I see."

"Uh huh. And definitely talk to Uhura too. As I understand it, weddings are supposed to be about compromise—or at least that's how its been on Earth in the last few hundred years. Be sure to take notes…you'll need them to help root through your fiancée's scattered wedding-brain."

"Duly noted."

Leonard McCoy was in the midst of preparing a traditional cuba libre for himself when his door alarm chimed. A curious brow shot up as he turned toward the door, wondering who'd be coming to see him besides Kirk. He certainly wasn't expecting anyone. "Who is it?"

"Commander Spock."

"The hell?" Leonard mumbled in genuine surprise. "Yeah, come in."

In short order Spock was across the doctor's threshold, hands clasped behind his back in standard Vulcan posture. "Greetings Doctor, I do hope I am not interrupting."

Leonard only glanced back at his still empty glass and the extremely large bottle of Captain Morgan on his table (it did have to last as long as possible). "Nah not really. So please, to what do I owe the pleasure of this most unexpected visit Mister Spock?"

"It was suggested to me by the Captain that I ask your insight on the matter concerning wedding ceremonies."

Leonard was silent for a second as his brain struggled to dissect what the Vulcan had just told him. "Wait…what? Hold on now…did you just say _wedding_ ceremonies?"

"Affirmative."

"As in…whose? Yours?"

"…Yes."

"Well I'll be good and goddamned," McCoy announced to the air with a roll of his eyes as he turned back to his rum, ice cubes and waiting decanter of coke, mixing the drink more quickly than he might have otherwise.

"Is there something the matter?"

"The matter? Now what could _possibly_ be the matter? Maybe it could be a Vulcan of all beings coming to a human divorcee for insight on a wedding? Oh how the cosmic turn begins!" He stirred his drink with a finger and took a large swig.

"Pardon me, but it seems I have offended you," Spock replied stiffly. "Please disregard Doctor, I shall take my leave…."

"Oh stop it," Leonard said flatly with a wave of a hand. "Hava seat." When Spock was slow to move, the man was insistent. "Well go on, sit down." Finding the doctor's couch the closest piece of furniture, Spock sat and waited for McCoy to join him. "You wanna drink?"

"No thank you Doctor."

"You say that now."

"I'm sorry?"

"Never mind. Okay so, you'll have to excuse me for being a little surprised. The idea of you getting married is a bit of a shocker…I'm tryin' to wrap my head around it. Its still Uhura right, or did that change between castoff and now?"

"No Doctor, it is still Lieutenant Uhura. I have successfully requested her hand in marriage and have given her a ring. Considering I am admittedly ignorant to the nuances of human nuptials past this point, you are the individual I am most comfortable asking."

"I'm flattered," McCoy replied unconvincingly. "Judging by what you're tellin', I'll assume that you are gunna opt for a human styled wedding?"

"That was my intention, though I have yet to confirm this with Lieutenant Uhura."

"What? Okay then if you haven't talked to your own fiancée yet, why are you talkin' ta _me?_"

"Because I understand that human women are prone to bouts of pathos and hysteria when planning such significant life events. I simply wish to be prepared for as many outcomes as possible."

Leonard only looked at him. "If your ears weren't so pointed I'd say you weren't doin' nothin' but ice-skatin' uphill, but since you have no clue what you're talkin' about, I'll cut ya some slack. Look. This is one of those things you can't just…throw logic, at as backwards as that may sound. No matter how hard you try, the shit won't stick. My best advice to you Spock is go with the damn flow, cause let me tell ya, that is a wild and dangerous river you're about to embark on my friend. Now Uhura's a good woman, but even the most level-headed dames can flip ah script on ya in a heartbeat if they don't like the way things are goin'. All I can say is that when she's happy, you'll be happy. But just remember, it's your wedding too so if you wanna preserve a bit of dignity, bargain early an' be consistent. You'll be glad you did."

"…Interesting."

"You have no idea."

* * *

As irony was oft to have it, Khan's long range scans for a suitable outpost to victimize found only one…Jupiter Outpost 92. Close enough to their current location to access easily but far enough away that no one would be able to assist the outpost once the attack began, the small space station was something of a godsend. Yet the Augment scowled. For months he had been forced to remain out there in Jupiter's system, a prisoner of the covert Io Facility; his task: oversee the design and construction of the USS Vengeance. But that was another time. The Facility, according to his readouts, was all but abandoned and more importantly, on the opposite side of the gas giant. Just the same, the fact that Jupiter Outpost 92 and the near deserted Io Facility were in such close proximity gave Khan a promising idea. But no sense in putting the cart before the horse. Lurking just behind Ganymede, Kahn brought the ship to a halt and assembled his crew.

"As you all may or may not know, we are bereft of supplies and other necessary provisions to make our voyage through space an agreeable one. I have brought us to the Jovian system in order to pillage a small outpost stationed here. Jupiter Outpost 92 is staffed by six individuals. It is entirely possible they by now have been alerted to our departure from Earth and subsequent acquisition of the Finch. Either way, I suspect them to have potable water and essential foodstuffs adequate for our numbers. We will hit them fast and hard, leaving ideally no survivors. We shall load the ship and proceed with our next course of action. All of you are to arm yourselves; all of you are to go. I shall remain aboard to intercept those who might happen upon our activities. This mission should not take more than seventeen minutes so please endeavor to be efficient. You will deploy in two teams of four; Lilith, you will lead Oren, Aakar and Sven—find the items we need and get them back to the Finch. Roe, you shall lead Devindar, Kaida and Aavai; locate the outpost personnel and dispatch them. Loot anything that appears of value and provide additional support to Lilith's team should they need it. Are there any among you that does not understand his or her orders?"

"No Khan!"

"Good. Prepare for deployment in five minutes."

Khan would watch as his people come-space pirates readied themselves for their third incursion since their revival earlier that morning. Once they were out of sight, he returned to his seat at the helm of the Finch, feeding coordinates to the transporter pad while divining the best place to beam them for optimal mission completion. As his fingers flew over the blinking station, a stitch of white hot agony rode the nerves up and down the afflicted side of his body. Khan felt himself jerk once in a seizure-like fashion, electing only greater pain from an entire half of his person. Suddenly in traction, Khan could only wait for the wave of blinding spasms to pass before he could resume his very important task of initiating the attack on the Jovian outpost. At one point holding his breath, the Augment pressed his fingers into the dress that covered the charred flesh and ribs of his pulse-rifle wound, nearly drawing blood from how hard his bit his lip. Pulling his fingers away, he found fluid on the tips. Seepage.

Immediately Khan was forced to stifle the substantial nausea that precipitously overtook him. He'd vomit much needed nutrients later…his people were ready to work and were counting on him to press the damn _button_. In a few short moments the Finch was in transporter range…the outpost still unaware of what was about to befall them. Khan's deep voice echoed through the small ship as his crew stood upon the pad, listening to the countdown. "Transport in three…two…one…mark." The shine of fantastic light enveloped the group, spiriting them away for the murder they would commit in their leader's name. In the meantime Khan would simply try to breath normally, the taste of coppery fumes filling his mouth once more.

* * *

A/N: Do please tell me what y'all thing so far...I thing its coming together nicely, but you guys know how to keep a girl humble-so be honest! Thanks for all the follows/faves/alerts and reviews, they really are a major motivator and part of the reason I was able to churn out this chapter so quickly :) Till next time!


	11. Chapter 11: Outpost 92

Chapter 11: Outpost 92

There was a joke in certain Starfleet circles that said 92 was nothing but an antique station-wagon with a typewriter on the dash. Amusing as the visual was, those who were actually stationed at the Jovian outpost would hardly disagree. It was ancient, ramshackle and so woefully neglected it was both a shock and miracle the place could keep anything alive. But it did, even if just barely. That day though, a host of foreign booted feet passed quietly down the empty halls—determined to carry out the mission levied to them. Unlike in the sewers of San Francisco, no one had a neat little computerized map to tell them where to go; good sense and situational awareness at present were the only things afforded. Lilith raised a fist, halting her group. The four of them slunk near a corner, taking care not to be discovered lest their presence be betrayed. Not that it mattered…Kahn ordered no survivors if at all possible, but stealth was always preferred.

None of them saw cameras or other monitoring devices thus far, so presumably they were in the clear. Ushering the party forward, Lilith slipped from the corner, pulse rifle pressed into her shoulder. No one. Good. They continued to stalk down the poorly lit hall—lights threatening to go out with each erratic flicker. There was a door up on the left. Examining it briefly, Lilith pressed her body against the wide crash-bar, rifle again up and ready to incinerate whatever came into view. The latch gave with a click and the door moved with her. There was another corridor on the other side as poorly lit as the first, but this time there was door on the right in possession of a narrow thatched window. The woman crept up and peeked swiftly inside. There was someone sitting, their back toward her. Lilith glanced at the others who in turn met her gaze. Holding up two fingers, she jerked her head; Oren and Aakar flanked opposite of her holding rifles at the ready. The metal handle was the only thing separating them from the person in the room and Lilith's hand was reaching for it. Fingers bending around the metal, she checked to see if it was locked from the inside. It wasn't and the handle continued to yield leaving no need to guess at what happened next.

The person nearly startled out of the chair when he was barged in upon, swiveling about to find three pulse rifles aimed at his head and torso. "Hands where I can see them," Lilith ordered, keeping her voice low. The man, a slightly older fellow regarded the woman and her accomplices with anxiously as his open palms inched slowly upward. "Who are-"

"Shut up," Lilith snapped cutting him off quickly before issuing a steely demand. "Where are your store rooms?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't fucking play dumb with me. Your store rooms…your rations, water, clothing, medical supplies—all that. Where are they?" Lilith's eyes narrowed as Aakar and Oren held their positions on either side of her, neither taking their gaze off the man.

"I'm not-"

In one blurred move, Lilith flipped the butt of her rifle into the side of the man's mouth, stunning him silent. Weapon again settled into her shoulder and aimed at the individual, she watched as he spit a bit of tooth out of a nastily split lip. "Shall we try that again?"

The man was visibly shaking now as he held his face, blood and saliva dripping down from behind his hand. "N-no more please…" Though it was unnecessary, Lilith slid closer and leveled the barrel with one of the man's wide eyes.

"_Where_."

"T-the pantry," the man replied, his words muffled by his hand and quickly swelling lip.

"Where is the pantry and what all's there?"

"The food cards," he choked out. "Back down the hall and to the left."

What the hell was a food card? Lilith didn't have time to wonder. "And the water?"

"The filtration room."

"Where is that?"

"A level below, near the aft of the s-station."

"The infirmary?"

"Out in the main hall three doors down on the right."

"Anything else I might be interested in?"

The man grimaced defiantly as he continued to hold his face. "You won't get away with this you crook!"

"Uh huh."

**CRACK.**

The man's head barely moved as the butt of Lilith's rifle found his face a second time…only instead of breaking more teeth, the super-woman shoved his sinus cavity deep into his brain. The man's hand fell as did his chin, crimson leaking onto his lap in thick uncomely little dots. "Search'em," Lilith ordered as she backed out into the hall where Sven had been keeping watch. Oren crawled through the man's pockets finding only a com device and a stick of chewing gum. Not much but good enough he supposed. They had spent more time with the Starfleet man than they ought to have in his opinion…at least they were finished there.

Elsewhere on the station, Roe and his group had yet to come across any people, but they managed to locate the armory. Though there was not much in the way of artillery, Roe recognized the smaller handheld phasers and pilfered them along with an unknown type of power cells. Stocking up on everything they assumed was useful, Roe's team moved more expeditiously through the dim halls, ready as ever to encounter their first target. It wouldn't be long before a random fellow came around a corner, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of four interlopers taking aim at him. "JAY!" The man shouted to an unseen person. It was the last thing he'd ever say as Roe zapped him in his forehead, skull smoking as the newly summoned Jay came racing into the corridor. He saw his felled friend before he saw those responsible for his death. "Oh my god! You're those _people!_" Jay gasped fearfully, pointlessly.

"You've heard of us then?" Roe returned with a smirk before promptly shooting him in the chest. The light had just begun to fade from the man's eyes when red lit bars flashed soundlessly along the hall's ceiling. "Oh drat…I suppose we'll have to hurry now," the Platinum haired leader quipped with a callous grin while patting down the first man. Kaida shook her head as she checked Jay. "You take far too much pleasure in killing humans Roe."

"And you're a human-lover," the Augment rejoined condescendingly, earning from Kaida her first scowl in a while. "I don't enjoy taking lives—there was a reason why I devoted my life to Khan and his rule," and it was that very reason why Kaida…didn't like this. But Khan always knew best.

"I suggest then Kaida that you take this opportunity to get over it," Roe added smugly, "there's more killing to be done after all."

* * *

"We could probably do this faster if we split up," Aakar posted as he pulled as much as he could recognize as food off the shelves. Lilith was shuttling other items into a large metal case in the pantry. When they found the case, it was full of what she understood to be M. . Oren himself had discovered a plastic crate full of soap and old flameless ration heaters as well as a container full of what looked like colored floppy disks. There were blankets, hand warmers, and survival gear that obviously hadn't been touched in ages, but seemed more than appropriate in the middle of a supply raid. "And what? So one of us can get lost and burn up what little time we have left?" Lilith grumbled, ignoring for the most part the red flashes she saw from outside of the pantry. "That damn hot-head has no sense of subtly."

"Well, he and the others _were_ supposed to kill the station hands," Oren offered.

"Your point? I killed one and didn't set the whole place on alert," the woman snorted before glancing quickly about the 'Pantry'. "Okay, we can't remain here any longer; we still don't have water or meds. Let's get this stuff back to the extraction point and get to those other locations." In short order, the smaller Augments were hefting the spoils while the larger Sven continued to cover them all while hands were full. It had already been about ten minutes, which meant the whole endeavor now existed on borrowed time. Lilith's group scrambled for at least two minutes more trying to find a way to the lower level, which came as a metal staircase near the far side of the station. the dead man never _did_ say which end was aft. "Aakar," Lilith called, clearly relenting on a previously discussed matter. "Find the infirmary then sit with the gathered supplies, this is taking too long."

"Right," Aakar acknowledged, not wasting any words on vindication. He understood why Lilith didn't want them separating, but there was no other way to be more efficient. Charging off in the opposite direction, the others hurried into the station's underbelly in hopes of finding the much coveted H2O. Once there, if the main level lighting was pitiable, the lower level was like being blindfolded in a dark room. "For fuck's sake, how are we supposed to find this shit if we don't even know what it looks like?" Lilith snarled as she ducked low pipes and navigated small spaces, the small clock in her head mocking she had failed that particular mission parameter. "Is that an indirect criticism against Khan ma'am?" Oren snipped from behind.

"Stuff it Oren, keep your eyes peeled. We're outta time down here."

"What's that up ahead?" It was from Sven bringing up the rear only barely squeezing along. Lilith who was up front squinted in the darkness, commanding all of her superior sight to see what Sven already had. It was a large cylindrical drum with a large pipe extending from its top. Lilith closed the distance quickly noticing a collection of bulky white letters on the protruding pipe that simply read 'filter'. "This has to be it," she observed, irritated that they didn't even have any means to properly illuminate the area. "There's a valve," Oren pointed out, moving over to it. A metal placard hung off the twist valve marked 'water shutoff'. He turned the dull colored octagon. "The flow should be off while we try to figure this out."

Lilith nodded and turned to Sven. "Put me on your shoulders so I can reach that pipe." Silently heeding the order, Sven's hands gripped the woman's waist and lifted. Thighs on either side of her comrade's head, Lilith found the water filtration system surprisingly negotiable. Two pressure buttons straddling a panel flush with the pipe would sink under her ministrations, sliding the panel back into the pipe itself. Excess water from the shutoff drained for a few seconds, drenching the Augments both. Judging by the slime on the underside of the filter, it was clear that the tank below was the fresh store. "Yeah, this is it…this is the water," Lilith confirmed as Sven lowered her to the ground.

"And how do we get it back to the ship I wonder? In our cupped hands?" Oren asked sourly. His frustration was grounded—it was hard to assume this was planned well given the unanswered questions they were running into left and right. Lilith had no response…and had no way of asking Khan what next to do.

Meanwhile, Aakar sprinted through the corridors on the direction of the human Lilith killed. True to word, the door to the infirmary was marked by the very familiar red cross and pushed open quickly to reveal a pleasing sight. Though the overall arrangement of Jupiter Outpost 92 was extremely archaic by 23rd century standards, Aakar felt a sense of relief for not having to ponder at what he was looking at with time so of the essence. Hands flew through every drawer, cabinet and tray he came across—it was the mother-load. Medications, antibiotics, sedatives and stimulants were well arranged and easily marked. The now recognizable hyposprays were in abundant supply along with a plethora of intravenous hydration pouches and other aqueous solutions. There were also many things that Aakar didn't recognize but collected them all the same, leaving three large red bio-bags to be recovered and stuffed wildly with anything and everything not fastened down. Ultimately he would rush bags as large as him back to the transporter point, wondering finally where the rest of his crewmates were.

* * *

"Come out, come out wherever you are," Roe taunted the empty halls. No doubt by now the remaining outpost crew had gone into hiding. As much as he'd of liked to, he knew they couldn't play seek and find, not when Khan had allotted only seventeen minutes for their plundering. Too bad things in these types of situations seldom went according to plan. "We should get back," Devindar cautioned. Shoving every encountered door open with a rough shoulder, Roe seemingly ignored the statement until he saw fit to reply. "Khan said no survivors, and that is what we are going to ensure."

"You hear what you wanna hear Roe—Khan said _'ideally'_ no survivors," Aavai bit back. "It's not like we get extra points for the body-count."

"Khan put me in charge so we're doing this. Stay focused," the Platinum snapped.

"Man are you _serious?_" Devindar demanded, astounded by Roe's sudden recklessness.

"This wasn't even supposed to take twenty minutes and it's easily been twenty-three," Kaida fussed, jumping in.

"It mustn't be that bad or else Khan would have called us back with the transporter by now," Roe defended even as the red alert lights continued to flash everywhere they turned.

"Have you considered Khan might have his hands full fighting off Starfleet interceptors, or worse? It's not like he was a hundred percent when we got here you ass," Aavai launched again.

"You guys," Kaida interceded, "we can't start figh-" A disruptor blast sizzled overhead of the Augments putting an instant end to their bickering, a second one almost hitting Devindar in the head. In turn, the four sent a volley of fire at the hidden assailant only to be met with more return fire and at increased intensity. There was a shout as a body hit the floor. Suddenly the offending fire ceased as the presumed Starfleet personnel fled deeper into the station. Immediately Roe pressed a pursuit that was joined hesitantly by the other members of his increasingly reluctant team.

The thunder of feet over cold tile was pervasive down the halls of the outpost as more phaser fire rang out. With a frown Aakar raised his rifle, listening carefully for who could have been who, and where the feet were bringing the action. From the sounds of the commotion, the chase would pass right through his location. "Surrender and die with some dignity!" Roe yelled after the fleeing outposters who had stopped shooting in favor of running. Aakar heard this and sighed, taking careful aim down the corridor where the runners would be meeting their untimely end. As expected, two people wearing gray coveralls swiftly rounded a far off corner heading straight for Aakar. One of them recognized Aakar immediately as not one of their own and rose their phaser to fire, but missed. Apparently marksmanship was not a prized skill in the 23rd century. Aakar fired a single shot from his pulse rifle and caught his attacker in the neck, nearly decapitating him. Immediately the other one threw down his phaser ahead of him and fell to his knees, both hands shooting up. "I surrender! I surrender!" Aakar lowered his rifle. "How many-"

"ROE!"

At once the Starfleet man slumped fell to one side, half his face burned off by a blast from an obscured source. In the next second Aakar saw Roe come into view, eyes looking down his nose at the other man he had killed. "Roe he _surrendered_," Kaida insisted, glaring hotly.

"You think I give a damn? What part of no survivors, _ideally_ or otherwise, wasn't clear? Besides, there's still one missing..."

"No there isn't, Lilith got one," Aakar supplied, less than enamored by Roe's display of outright execution in light of a clear surrender…but said nothing on it.

"Well good, then we can get the hell off this thing," Roe commented with a sharp eye roll. "Where's the rest of Lilith's bunch?"

"Here," she'd call, Oren and Sven beside her dragging a huge metal cylinder by a thick metal chain.

"Looks like the gang's all here," the Platinum grinned as he dipped down to give last minute checks to the last felled men. "Now what?" Aavai asked noticing the large pile of goods in the middle of the corridor.

"We wait for Khan," Lilith answered wringing out the front of her shirt.

* * *

It was only seconds later the eight Augments found themselves back aboard the Finch, watching the mass of supplies they pilfered materialize upon the transport pad. Despite misfires, their efforts had paid off handsomely. Breaking away from the group, Aakar left for the bridge. "Khan," he'd greet upon entry. "While I will leave the briefing for Roe and Lilith, I wanted to report a successful gathering of medical provisions. When you are ready Khan, I would like sir to reassess your injuries." For the second time Khan didn't respond after a number of moments. Whether it was displeasure at the length his crew was away Aakar was uncertain, but this time, he would not simply hang back. Rounding the back of Khan's chair, worry knotted in the man's stomach at the pallor of their leader. He was sweating profusely and his lids were heavy and fluttering; the barest bit of blue colored his lips and he seemed faint. "Khan…" Aakar breathed as he reached out to him only to have Khan bat a hand at him weakly. "Please Khan," he'd say as he simply worked around Khan's anemic protest, lifting his shirt. The dressing placed over Khan's wound was sticky and saturated with amber-colored discharge. His chest rose and fell in shallow fashion and his breath sounded wet.

"Someone get in here and help me now," Aakar yelled from the bridge's door, summoning quickly Oren. "What, what?"

"Help me get him to the medical bay, he's got fluid in his lungs," he explained quickly.

Even as Aakar and Oren were pulling him from the helm, Khan put up more resistance than expected as he leaned into the console, entering coordinates. Only when finished did he allow himself to be taken from the bridge. There was something else that needed to be accomplished before they left Jupiter far behind. That, and no one knew how to pilot the Finch but him.

* * *

A/N: I know, only one A/N blurb today. I just wanted to spend a little more time with Khan's crew (might have some typos in there, I was really tired while proofing this). I get the feeling that some of them might be a tad one dimensional. I'm still trying to decide how much energy I'm looking to invest into them...or if people want me to invest more into them at all. Also, I plan on returning to Spock 'n Uhura in the next chapter, though how I might do that at this point, I am REALLY drawing a blank on. I am open to suggestions right about now. Anyway, your reads and reviews are always awesome :) Keep them coming and I might be able to pump these chapters out a little faster. I'm cheerleading myself toward the main part of this story!


End file.
